THE  LIBRARY 

OF 

THE  UNIVERSITY 
OF  CALIFORNIA 

LOS  ANGELES 


TEN  PLAYS 


BY  DAVID  PINSKI 
THREE   PLAYS 

$1.50 

THE   TREASURE 

A    DRAMA    IN    FOUR    Acre 

$1.25 
NEW  YORK:  B.  W.  HUEBSCH 


DAVID  PINSKI 

TEN  PLAYS 

translated  from  the  Yiddish  by 
ISAAC  GOLDBERG 


NEW   YOEK 

B.  W.  HUEBSCH 

MCMXX 


COPYRIGHT,      1920 
BY  B.  W.  HUEBSCH 


7J 


The  original  translation  of  "  A  Dollar  "  was  made 
by  Mr.  Joseph  Michael  and  of  "  Diplomacy  "  by  Mr. 
Harry  Birnbaum.  These  have  been  revised  by  Dr. 
Isaac  Goldberg  who  translated  the  other  eight  plays. 

Some  of  the  plays  first  appeared  in  the  New  York 
Tribune  and  Boston  Evening  Transcript  and  two 
were  included  in  a  volume  issued  by  John  W.  Luce  & 
Co.,  to  all  of  whom  the  author  and  publisher  make  due 
acknowledgment. 


772538 


CONTENTS 

PAGE 

THE  PHONOGRAPH  1 

THE  GOD  OF  THE  NEWLY  RICH  WOOL  MERCHANT  35 

A  DOLLAR  49 

THE  CRIPPLES  73 

THE  INVENTOR  AND  THE  KING'S  DAUGHTER  85 

DIPLOMACY  109 

LITTLE  HEROES  133 

THE  BEAUTIFUL  NUN  147 

POLAND — 1919  159 

THE  STRANGER  171 


THE  PHONOGRAPH 
A  Comedy 


PERSONS 

NAHMEN  RISKIN. 

LIB  BE,  his  wife. 

His  PARENTS. 

His  FATHER-IN-LAW  AND  MOTHER-IN-LAW. 

Two  BROTHERS. 

THREE  BROTHERS-IN-LAW. 

SISTERS,   SISTERS-IN-LAW,   AUNTS,   and   so   on. 

THE  RABBI. 

His  WIFE. 

THE  WEALTHY  MERCHANT. 

His  WIFE. 

THE  CANTOR. 

His  WIFE. 

THE  THIEF. 

THE  INFORMER. 

THE  TOWN  IDIOT. 

The  action  takes  place  in  a  remote  Russo-Yiddish 
town,  where  the  Jews  lived  upon  wind  and  miracles. 


THE  PHONOGRAPH 

THE  SCENE  :  A  large  room  in  the  home  of  NAHMEN 
RISKIN.  To  the  right,  a  door  leading  to  the  other 
rooms;  to  the  left,  the  exit  door;  at  the  rear,  two 
windows  facing  the  street.  In  the  middle  of  the 
room,  a  round  table  upon  which  there  now  re- 
poses the  phonograph,  while  overhead  burns  a 
hanging  lamp.  In  the  right  foreground,  a  bureau; 
behind  it,  a  closet;  between  the  windows,  a  lounge; 
all  manner  of  chairs  and  benches  are  placed  in 
disarray;  the  room  is  packed  with  people.  Some 
chairs  hold  two  occupants;  the  benches  creak  un- 
der their  excessive  burden;  even  the  bureau  serves 
as  a  seat  for  some  spectators;  agamst  the  window- 
panes  curious  faces  are  pressed,  for  a  crowd  has 
gathered  outside. 

NAHMEN  RISKIN  (in  high  feather,  merrily  relat- 
ing something  in  the  voice  and  manner  of  one  who 
feels  that  he  is  the  hero  of  the  day  and  the  center  of 
universal  admiration).  .  .  .  So,  as  usual  in  Amer- 
ica, they  told  me  to  become  a  tailor,  like  the  rest  of 
them.  But  just  to  spite  them  all,  I  said  to  myself: 
"  No,  you'll  become  no  tailor.  You've  never  held 
a  needle  in  your  fingers  and  you're  not  going  to  begin 
now,  even  if  the  world  should  turn  upside  down." 

3 


4  THE  PHONOGRAPH 

LIBBE  (with  disdain).  A  tailor!  Humph!  The 
crazy  notion ! 

NAHMEN.  So  I  threw  myself  into  many  things, 
sniffed  and  licked  at  this  and  that, —  American  busi- 
ness. .  .  .  And  once  I  happened  to  be  sitting  with 
our  Brokhe  —  just  as  now,  on  a  Saturday  evening, 
and  she  has  a*"  phonograph,  and  the  phonograph 
played,  and  suddenly  I  was  struck  by  an  idea. 
"  You  blockhead,  you !  Here  you  have  a  golden  busi- 
ness !  Why  should  you  have  to  knock  about  Amer- 
ica with  a  thousand  trades  and  never  a  blessing?  — 
Rather  buy  yourself  such  a  hurdy-gurdy,  take  it 
back  home  with  you  and  you've  got  a  business  from 
businessland. 

THE  MOTHER.  God's  hand!  To  think  that  he 
should  sail  to  America,  and  there  should  live  our 
Brokhe,  and  she  should  have  such  «.  machine,  and  the 
machine  should  play,  and  he  should  be  struck  by  the 
idea.  .  .  .  Ah,  Lord  of  the  universe,  what  a  God 
we  have  in  heaven ! 

LIBBE.  We  needed  some  recompense,  indeed,  for 
all  the  troubles  we  have  gone  through. 

FATHER-IN-LAW.     Well,  and  when  the  idea  struck 


you 


MOTHER-IN-LAW.  Can't  you  see?  So  he  went 
and  bought  one. 

NAHMEN.  When  the  idea  struck  me  I  told  no 
tales,  but  went  off  and  bought  a  hurdy-gurdy  and 
went  to  my  people  and  said :  "  I'm  going  back 
home!"— "How?  What?  What  do  you  mean?" 
— "  Just  what  I  say !  Everybody  comes  to  America 


THE  PHONOGRAPH  5 

to  make  money,  and  I  intend  to  return  home  to  make 
money." —  So  they  all  looked  at  me  and  laughed. 
"  How  do  you  expect  to  return  home  and  make  money, 
when  you've  come  from  there  because  you  never  were 
able  to  make  ends  meet  ?  " —  And  they  began  to  tell 
what  I  was  in  the  old  country,  that  all  I  was  good 
for  was  to  poke  around  with  my  cane  and  play 
chess  and  not  know  what  to  do  with  myself.  So  I 
laughed.  "  You'll  soon  be  hearing  big  things  of 
me,"  I  told  them.  "  You'll  get  the  big  news.  All 
I  needed  was  to  make  a  short  visit  to  America  and 
catch  on  to  the  business  methods.  .  .  . 

THE  FATHER.  Didn't  you  tell  them  anything 
about  the  machine? 

NAHMEN.  Do  you  take  me  for  a  fool?  Do  you 
think  I  was  going  to  tell  them,  and  have  somebody 
rob  me  of  my  idea? 

A  SISTER.     Were  you  afraid  of  Brokhe? 

NAHMEN.  If  I  told  it  to  her,  she'd  tell  it  to  some- 
body else,  and  somebody  else  would.  .  .  . 

MOTHER-IN-LAW.     You  acted  very  wisely. 

LIBBE.  Thank  God.  There  are  plenty  of  envious 
souls. 

NAHMEN.  And  besides  that,  I  had  to  be  doubly 
careful.  I  had  no  government  passport,  so  I  had 
to  steal  across  the  border.  .  .  . 

A  BROTHER-IN-LAW.  And  did  you  really  steal 
across  the  border? 

NAHMEN.  Did  I !  It  would  take  a  thousand  and 
one  nights  to  tell  the  full  story.  What  I  had  to 
suffer!  Ah!  It  was  hard  enough  at  the  time  I 


6  THE  PHONOGRAPH 

went  to  America.  On  the  way  back  it  was  a  thou- 
sand times  harder.  A  positive  danger  to  life  and 
limb.  I  was  sure  that  I  was  going  to  lose  both  my 
phonograph  and  my  life.  But  when  a  fellow  carries 
a  smart  head  on  his  shoulders,  and  dor  't  167V"his 
head,  then  everything  is  all  right.  .  .  . 

AN  UNCLE.     How  much  does  such  a  machine  cost? 

NAHMEN.  It  costs  a  pretty  sum  of  dollars. 
Would  to  God  you  earned  it  every  week,  or  even 
every  month. 

A  SECOND  UNCLE.  Won't  you  have  the  kind- 
ness to  let  us  hear  another  selection  of  that  sweet 
synagogue  music? 

NAHMEN.  You'll  hear  it,  in  time.  Too  much  is 
forbidden.  The  rabbi  will  soon  come,  and  the  mer- 
chant, and  the  cantor.  Then  you'll  hear  it.  They 
ought  to  be  here  already.  (To  those  who  are  sitting 
upon  the  lounge.)  You  will  please  leave  the  lounge 
when  they  arrive.  Altogether,  we'll  have  to  have 
more  room  here.  You  can  stand  in  the  other  rooms. 

A  SISTER  (entreatmgly) .  Let  "it"  sing  the 
same  once  again. 

NAHMEN.  No-o-o.  The  first  time,  as  a  gift ;  the 
second  time,  you  must  pay. 

A  BROTHER.      Surely  you'll  ask  no  money  of  us? 

NAHMEN.  Certainly,  of  father  and  mother, 
father-in-law  and  mother-in-law.  .  .  . 

MOTHER-IN-LAW  (offended).  I  might  have  ex- 
pected you  to  ask  me  to  pay. 

NAHMEN.  Everybody  must  pay.  That's  busi- 
ness. Do  you  understand?  Business.  And  in  busi- 


THE  PHONOGRAPH  7 

ness  there  is  no  friendship.  If  I  were  to  open  a 
tavern  would  you  expect  me  to  give  you  free  brandy  ? 
And  if  I  were  to  open  a  grocery  would  you  expect 
mr  •*<>  gi"  ^  you  everything  for  nothing? 

•V  SISTE  IN-LAW.  There's  a  comparison  for  you. 
If  we  hear  your  music,  does  that  mean  that  we'll  use 
up  your  machine? 

NAHMEN.  What  do  you  think,  then?  Certainly 
you  would  use  it  up.  As  it  turns  and  turns  around 
it  uses  up.  And  besides,  this  very  listening  you  do, 
is  my  business.  You  pay  for  hearing. 

THE  MOTHER-IN-LAW.  Why  should  you  play 
anything  for  the  merchant  without  asking  pay? 

NAHMEN.  Well, —  you  see,  he's  a  guest.  And  the 
rabbi  will  be  here,  as  well  as  the  cantor.  And  how 
much,  do  you  think,  am  I  going  to  play  for  him? 
One  piece,  another  piece,  and  it's  all  over.  And  if 
he  wishes  some  more,  then  he'll  have  to  be  so  kind 
as  to  pay  for  it.  And  the  rabbi,  too,  and  the  cantor 
likewise. 

THE  MOTHER.  What  did  you  expect?  That  he 
shouldn't  play  for  the  rabbi  and  the  merchant  at 
all?  It's  such  an  honor. 

NAHMEN.  Never  mind  the  honor.  I've  been  to 
America,  remember.  And  over  there  they  laugh  at 
such  matters.  No  matter  how  wealthy  a  man  may 
be,  and  no  matter  how  learned  the  rabbi  may  be, 
it  makes  no  difference.  But  I'll  tell  the  truth.  I 
was  anxious  for  the  merchant  to  come  so  that  he'd 
burst  with  envy.  What  do  you  think, —  that  his 
businesses  are  any  better  than  mine? 


8  THE  PHONOGRAPH 

LIBBE  (with  a  sudden  outcry).  Oh,  look  who 
has  come  in!  (All  eyes  are  focussed  upon  the  door- 
way. ) 

THE  THIEF  (stands  upon  the  threshold  with  a 
smile  that  reaches  from  ear  to  ear.) 

VOICES  (in  fright}.  The  thief!  The  thief! 
(The  persons  seated  around  the  table  jump  to  their 
feet  and  conceal  the  phonograph  from  the  intrud- 
er's sight.) 

THE  THIEF.  Aren't  you  ashamed  to  call  a  man 
a  thief  before  his  very  face?  So  inconsiderate  of 
you!  I  might  take  offence,  ha-ha-ha!  And  why 
did  you  get  so  scared?  I'm  not  going  to  steal  your 
pretty  little  American  from  you.  (Steps  into  the 
room.  The  guests  recoil  and  open  up  passage  for 
him.) 

THE  MOTHER.  May  your  hands  wither  if  you 
dare  to  lay  them  upon  the  little  American.  If  you 
come  a  step  nearer,  I'll  scratch  your  eyes  out  for 
you. 

THE  THIEF.  Hush,  sh.  .  .  .  I'm  not  stealing 
anything. 

VOICES.  Really.  .  .  .  That's  so.  ...  Why  in- 
sult him?  .  .  .  He's  not  stealing  anything.  .  .  . 

NAHMEN  (recovers  from  his  fright,  and  suddenly 
recalls  that  he  is  something  of  an  American  and  that 
the  room  is  full  of  men,  whose  count  he  has  just 
been  talcing).  What  do  you  wish  here? 

THE  THIEF.  What  should  I  wish?  Just  a  mere 
look.  The  whole  town  has  come  for  a  look,  so  I'm 
here,  too. 


THE  PHONOGRAPH  9 

NAHMEN.  You've  no  business  coming  into  my 
home,  so  clear  out  of  here  at  once!  (Some  of  the 
guests  are  frightened  at  NAHMEN'S  resolute  manner 
and  tug  at  his  coat  to  warn  him  that  it  is  more  tact- 
ful to  treat  a  thief  in  kind  and  friendly  fashion.) 

A  BROTHER-IN-LAW.  Let  him  have  a  look. 
What  do  you  care? 

ANOTHER.  Simply  let  him  keep  his  hands  off. 
He  can't  hurt  anything  with  his  eyes. 

THE  THIEF.  As  long  as  you  see  me,  there's  noth- 
ing to  fear.  You  need  be  afraid  only  when  you  don't 
see  me.  When  you  retire,  and  put  out  the  lights, 
and  fall  asleep.  .  .  .  Ha,  ha,  ha.  .  .  . 

NAHMEN.  And  I  tell  you  to  get  out  of  here  at 
once.  I  come  from  America,  I'll  have  you  under- 
stand. And  in  America  folks  know  what  e,  revolver 
is.  Do  you  wish  to  see  it,  perhaps?  Clear  out  on 
the  instant ! 

THE  THIEF.  Just  look  at  the  airs  he's  putting 
on.  The  cock  of  the  walk!  A  revolver  and  such 
things.  .  .  .  With  a  thief,  it  seems  to  me,  it  is  bet- 
ter to  be  on  good  terms.  It's  wise  to  make  him  the 
keeper  of  your  keys,  ha,  ha,  ha.  .  .  .  (Tries  to  catch 
a  glimpse  of  the  phonograph.) 

NAHMEN  (thrusts  him  aside).  You'd  better  go 
out  before  I  throw  you  out ! 

THE  THIEF.  Ha,,  ha,  ha!  .  .  .  Rather  be  so 
kind  as  to  present  me  with  a  little  music.  Have  that 
kindness,  and  I'll  leave. 

VOICES.     Oh!     Yes!     Really! 

NAHMEN.     I'll  soon  play  him  a  tune  that'll.  .  .  . 


10  THE  PHONOGRAPH 

THE  THIEF.  Do  you  know  what?  I'll  pay  you 
with  the  small  change  I've  picked  from  the  pockets 
of  the  crowd  that's  assembled  before  your  windows. 
Ha,  ha,  ha!  .  .  .  {He  jingles  the  change  in  his 
pocket.  Some  of  the  hearers  take  the  THIEF'S  words 
for  a  jest,  and  laugh;  others  thrust  their  hands 
hastily  into  their  pockets.) 

THE  MOTHER.  His  hands  should  have  been 
paralyzed ! 

THE  MOTHER-IN-LAW.  We  ought  to  send  for  the 
police. 

THE  THIEF  (boastfully,  and  content  with  the  im- 
pression he  has  made).  Would  you  accept  a  nice 
little  watch?  It's  worth  a  couple  of  rubles.  Not 
much.  Your  crowd  is  composed  of  paupers !  And 
with  Sabbath  pockets.  Fumble  and  fumble  and 
there's  nothing  to  get  out  of  them.  Sabbath 
cigarettes,  hidden  away,  unsmoked,  and  other  like 
treasures.  .  .  . 

A  BROTHER.  Really,  take  his  small  change  and 
play  him  a  tune. 

THE  FATHER.     Stolen  money! 

LIBBE.     We  don't  need  his  thefts. 

NAHMEN.  I'll  see  to  it  that  he  leaves  in  a  mo- 
ment. Just  keep  him  away  from  the  table. 
(Hastens  through  the  door  at  the  right.) 

THE  THIEF  (somewhat  intimidated,  draws  back). 
He  refuses  to  believe  that  I  simply  wish  to  hear. 
How  is  it  possible,  really,  to  steal  the  little  American 
lady?  Why,  if  you  just  touch  her,  she's  liable  to  let 
out  a  shriek  and  commence  to  scream,  ha,  ha,  ha! 


11 

...  He  thinks  he'll  scare  me.  .  .  .  I'll  give  him  just 
one  daub  and  he'll  be  lying  at  my  feet,  yelping  like 
a  whipped  cur.  .  .  .  What  are  you  all  looking  at  me 
like  that  for?  .  .  .  That's  the  way!  Tremble! 
Then  you'll  let  me  have  a  glimpse  of  the  American 
lady.  (Draws  closer  to  the  table.) 

NAHMEN  (returns). 

THE  THIEF  (steps  back,  staring  at  NAHMEN'S 
fingers.  Seeing  that  the  latter  has  returned  with 
empty  hands,  he  bursts  into  laughter.)  With  what 
he  went  out,  he  returns.  Ha,  ha,  ha !  (Approaches 
the  table  once  more.) 

NAHMEN  (with  his  eyes  directed,  upon  the  table, 
advances  at  the  same  time  toward  the  thief,  and  as 
he  draws  very  near  he  suddenly  delivers  a  resound- 
ing slap,  nearly  knocking  the  fellow  off  his  feet; 
at  once  he  whips  out  a  revolver  from  his  back  pocket 
and  levels  it  at  the  thief).  Now  get  right  out,  or 
you'll  be  carried  out  a  corpse ! 

THE  THIEF  (lost,  terrified,  he  edges  his  way  to 
the  door  and  dashes  out,  followed  by  NAHMEN  and 
some  of  the  bystanders). 

THE  CROWD  (at  first  amazed,  breathless  and 
speechless,  finally  explod&s  into  laughter). 

A  VOICE.     That  was  a  slap! 

A   SECOND  VOICE.     And  the  revolver  under  his 


nose 


A  THIRD.     And  off  with  you ! 
A  WOMAN.     Oh,  I  shivered  all  over.     I  thought 
he  was  going  to  shoot. 


12  THE  PHONOGRAPH 

NAHMEN  (returns).  We're  rid  of  him  for  good. 
(The  crowd  holds  its  sides  for  laughter.) 

AN  UNCLE.     And  would  you  really  have  shot  him? 

NAHMEN.  Bah!  An  empty  revolver!  Not 
loaded ! 

A  BROTHER-IN-LAW.     No  bullets  in  it? 

NAHMEN.  What  do  you  think?  I  wouldn't  hold 
a  loaded  revolver.  Why,  a  loaded  revolver  might 
actually  shoot. 

LIBBE.  Just  the  same  I'd  advise  you  not  to  hold 
it. 

NAHMEN.  This  is  what  you  call  a  real  revolver. 
You  can  put  six  bullets  into  iff.  I  said  to  myself, 
"  I've  got  to  steal  over  the  border  line,  and  I  must 
be  able  to  protect  my  baggage,  so  it  pays  to  have 
a  shooter  around."  And  it  occurred  to  me,  too,  that 
it  could  be  of  -use  here.  I  actually  expected  thievish 
visitors.  .  .  . 

THE  MOTHER.  Fie!  Hide  it.  I  can't  bear  the 
sight  of  it. 

NAHMEN  (places  the  weapon  in  his  pocket). 

THE  MOTHER-IN-LAW.  See !  He's  putting  it  into 
his  pocket! 

NAHMEN.  But  it's  empty.  Didn't  you  hear  what 
I  was  just  saying? 

A  BROTHER.  A  good  thing  the  thief  didn't  know 
that. 

SECOND  BROTHER.  That  slap  alone  was  enough 
to  send  him  scampering  to  where  pepper  grows. 

THE  FATHER-IN-LAW.  Where  did  you  learn  to 
slap  like  that? 


THE  PHONOGRAPH  13 

THE  FATHER.  From  me,  of  course!  Many's  the 
slap  I've  given  him ! 

NAHMEN  (caressing  the  phonograph).  I've  gone 
through  quite  a  bit  for  the  sake  of  this  fellow. 
He'll  have  to  pay  me  back  well.  He'll  have  to  be- 
come a  good  business  for  me. 

A  SISTER-IN-LAW.  Do  you  know  what  I'll  tell 
you?  Let  us  celebrate  the  exit  of  the  thief.  Wind 
up  your  machine  and  give  us  a  tune. 

VOICES.     Yes,  yes! 

A  SECOND  SISTER-IN-LAW.  The  other  people,  per- 
haps, won't  show  up. 

NAHMEN.  Well,  if  they  don't  come,  we'll  go  to 
sleep. 

AN  AUNT.  Hush.  I'll  pay  my  share.  How 
much  do  you  ask? 

VOICES.     We'll  pay,  too. 

NAHMEN.  Fine.  Out  with  your  coins,  then.  .  .  . 
Business  is  business.  Ten  kopeks  apiece.  And  then 
we'll  have  music.  (He  puts  out  his  hand  and  several 
of  ihe  guests  throw  coins  into  it.) 

THE  INFORMER   (enters).     Good  week  to  you. 

NAHMEN  (turns  and  notices  him,  quivering  with 
fright). 

LIBBE  (looks  at  NAHMEN,  sees  that  he  is  perturbed, 
whereupon  she  is  infected  with  his  fright  and  wrings 
her  hands). 

THE  INFORMER.  Won't  anybody  answer  my 
greeting  with  a  "  Good  year  to  you  "  ? 

THE  MOTHER.     Nobody  sent  for  you. 


14  -THE  PHONOGRAPH 

THE  MOTHER-IN-LAW.  Informers  are  greeted 
with:  "  Go  to  the  deuce !" 

THE  INFORMER.  I  never  informed  against  you, 
did  I?  (Approaching  NAHMEN.)  Welcome,  Mr. 
Riskin !  (Offers  his  hand.) 

NAHMEN  (gives  him  his  hand).     The  same  to  you. 

THE  INFORMER.  You  see,  he  isn't  afraid  of  me. 
He  knows  I  have  nothing  to  inform  about,  against 
him.  And  he  doesn't  take  offence  for  other  people's 
wrongs. —  So  that's  the  machine,  is  it?  —  A  little 
box. —  Has  it  played  already  ?  May  I  hear  some- 
thing, too? 

THE  MOTHER  (scornfully).  Yes!  Play  some- 
thing in  his  honor! 

A  BROTHER-IN-LAW.  Maybe  you've  got  a  song 
there  called,  "  A  curse  on  you,  Informer ! " 
(Laughter.) 

NAHMEN  (cordially).  We  are  waiting  for  the 
rabbi,  the  merchant  and  the  cantor  to  arrive. 
When  they  come  we'll  play  the  machine  and  you,  too, 
will  hear. 

THE  INFORMER.  Then  we'll  wait.  I'm  not  so 
important  a  personage  as  they,  yet  I'll  enjoy  their 
good  fortune. 

NAHMEN  (almost  apologetically).  To  play  the 
phonograph  too  often  isn't  good  for  its  health. 

THE  INFORMER.  Very  well.  I'm  in  no  hurry. 
I'll  wait. —  Tell  me,  pray,  what  kind  of  voyage  did 
you  have? 

NAHMEN.     Excellent.     How     should     it     be?     I 


THE  PHONOGRAPH  15 

sailed  on  a  first-class  vessel.  A  speedy  liner. 
Travelled  second-class,  like  a  lord, —  like  a  real 
American. 

THE  INFORMER.  But  you  must  have  had  your 
troubles  at  the  border. 

NAHMEN.  What  do  you  mean  ?  Why  ?  Just  the 
opposite,  in  fact. 

THE  INFORMER.  What  do  you  mean,  "  the  op- 
posite "  ?  When  a  man  crosses  the  border  with  an 
American  machine  and  without  a  passport.  .  .  . 

NAHMEN.  Without  a  passport?  What  do  you 
mean,  without  a  passport?  May  we  all  have  a 
fortune  as  surely  as  I  had  a  passport. 

THE  INFORMER.     A  —  false  one? 

NAHMEN.  Ah,  you  wish  to  insult  me?  What  do 
you  mean  by  "  a  false  one  "  ?  Don't  you  know  that 
I  sailed  for  America  with  a  government  passport  ? 

THE  INFORMER.  I  know  that  you  sailed  for 
America  without  a  government  passport.  I  know 
even  what  you  wrote  about  how  you  stole  across  the 
border. 

NAHMEN  (laughing}.  Cross  yourself;  you  prob- 
ably heard  that  about  somebody  else. 

THE  MOTHER-IN-LAW.  What's  this?  Are  you 
getting  ready  to  inform  against  him? 

NAHMEN  (angrily).  Inform!  What  has  he  to 
inform  about?  The  police  know  that  I  had  a  pass- 
port. 

THE  INFORMER.  And  so  is  the  machine  not  con- 
traband? You  paid  duty  on  it? 


16  THE  PHONOGRAPH 

NAHMEN.  Eleven  rubles  and  forty-nine  kopeks, 
just  as  truly  as  it's  Saturday  night  upon  earth. 
Why,  I  have  the  receipt. 

THE  INFORMER.  Then  you're  an  innocent  man, 
after  all. 

NAHMEN.  Might  the  same  be  said  of  every  Jew- 
ish soul! 

THE  INFORMER.  Then  I  can't  earn  anything 
here. 

NAHMEN.  An  American  cigarette.  (Offers  him 
the  cigarette  case.) 

THE  INFORMER.  Well,  we'll  take  what  we  can 
get.  Let's  see  how  an  American  cigarette  tastes. 
Although,  for  crossing  the  border  without  a  pass- 
port, and  smuggling  in  a  phonograph.  .  .  . 

NAHMEN.  If  that  were  true,  it  would  really  be 
a  bad  state  of  affairs. 

THE  INFORMER.  Just  the  same,  I  believe  that  a 
little  informing  wouldn't  be  a  bad  thing.  .  .  .  (A 
stir  in  the  crowd.)  Just  see  how  they  all  started !  — 
I,  you  will  understand,  take  intense  pleasure  in  in- 
forming. I  gain  weight  on  it.  Ha,  ha.  .  .  .  And 
on  the  contrary,  if  I  should  ever  let  slip  an  oppor- 
tunity to  inform,  I'd  be  liable  to  get  sick  with 
heartache.  As  if  I  lost  who  knows  what.  Like  a 
pious  Jew  who  omits  a  prayer.  That's  the  kind  of 
informer  I  am.  And  it's  entirely  possible  that  I 
should  inform  against  you  for  the  pure  pleasure 
of  the  thing.  It  may  be  that  you  really  had  a 
passport,  that  you  paid  duty  upon  the  machine  and 
have  a  receipt,  but  in  the  meantime  the  police  would 


THE  PHONOGRAPH  17 

come,  would  make  an  investigation,  and  there'd  be  a 
hubbub  and  I'd  have  had  my  little  joke,  ha,  ha,  ha! 
Well,  why  are  you  all  so  frightened?  If  you  wish, 
I  can  restrain  my  desire  to  inform.  It  can  do  me 
harm,  but  I  am  willing  to  risk  my  health  if  there's 
enough  in  it. 

NAHMEN.     What,  for  instance? 

INFORMER.     Take  me  in  as  a  partner. 

VOICES.  Did  you  hear  what  he  asks?  —  Oh,  a 
plague  upon  him !  — 

NAHMEN.  Do  you  know  what  I'm  going  to  do  to 
you? 

INFORMER.     What,  for  example? 

NAHMEN.  What  I  did  to  the  thief.  I  gave  him  a 
punch  in  the  jaw  and  almost  shot  him. 

INFORMER.  Oho,  if  that's  the  case,  then  I'll  cer- 
tainly do  right  to  inform  against  you.  (Arises.) 

NAHMEN  (pointing  the  revolver  at  him).  You'll 
not  leave  this  room  alive. 

CROWD  (at  -first  takes  fright  at  sight  of  the  re- 
volver; then  the  various  bystanders  begin  to  choke 
back  their  laughter)* 

INFORMER  (tries  to  escape). 

NAHMEN  (holding  him).  You  can't  run  away. 
You're  going  to  sit  down  and  write  a  little  letter  for 
me.  (Sits  the  INFORMER  down  upon  a  chair.  To 
his  wife.)  Libbe,  bring  paper,  ink  and  pen. 

LIBBE  (goes  into  the  next  room  to  get  the  ma- 
terials). 

NAHMEN.  You  are  to  write  down  that  you  heard  I 
had  come  from  America  with  a  great  deal  of  money 


18  THE  PHONOGRAPH 

and  you  offer  to  sell  me  counterfeit  bills.  Now  you 
understand,  if  you  dare  to  inform  against  me,  your 
letter  will  be  delivered  into  the  hands  of  the  police. 
The  most  they  can  do  to  me  if  I  have  paid  no  duty, 
is  to  take  away  my  phonograph ;  but  you  will  languish 
in  prison. 

INFORMER.  How  am  I  to  write  such  a  letter  for 
you?  Suppose  I  don't  inform  against  you,  and  you 
take  it  into  your  head  to  give  my  letter  to  the  police 
anyway  ? 

NAHMEN.  You  write  that  letter  like  a  good  little 
boy,  and  ask  questions  afterwards,  unless  you  wish 
to  leave  this  place  lame  with  an  ear  shot  off. 

INFORMER.  You  certainly  learned  a  thing  or  two 
in  America.  Do  you  know  what?  Let's  become 
partners  in  informing! 

LIBBE  (enters  with  writing  materials). 

NAHME-N.  I'll  soon  make  you  a  partner  with  the 
angel  of  death.  Write  down  what  I've  told  you  to. 

INFORMER.  To  think  that  I  should  fall  into  this ! 
I  should  have  had  the  additional  pleasure  of  inform- 
ing the  authorities  that  you  carried  a  revolver. 
You'll  see,  I'll  fall  ill  because  of  all  this.  If  I  should 
die,  remember  that  it  was  you  who  shortened  my 
years. 

THE  MOTHER-IN-LAW.  May  it  happen  as  soon  as 
possible. 

VOICES.     Amen ! 

VOICES  (from  outside).  The  rabbi  is  coming!  — 
The  cantor  is  coming !  —  Here  comes  the  merchant ! 

NAHMEN  (to  the  INFORMER).     Write,  at  once! 


THE  PHONOGRAPH  19 

INFORMER.  The  pen  oan't  move !  My  hand  can't 
stir! 

NAHMEN.  Shall  I  shoot  you?  You  can't  get  out 
of  this,  I  tell  you.  (To  his  BROTHERS  and  BROTH- 
ERS-IN-LAW.) Do  you  know  what?  You  fellows 
will  be  so  kind  as  to  take  this  chap  into  the  bedroom, 
until  the  guests  leave.  The  five  of  you  should  be 
able  to  keep  a  close  watch  over  him.  You  may  tie 
him  to  the  bedpost,  if  you  care  to. 

INFORMER.  I'll  raise  an  outcry,  and  you'll  see 
what  will  happen. 

NAHMEN.  Then  I'll  shoot  off  your  nose.  Bet- 
ter do  as  you're  told,  without  any  resistance. 

A  BROTHER.  But  we  wish  to  hear  the  phono- 
graph. 

NAHMEN.  You  can  hear  it  from  there.  .  .  .  And 
I'll  give  you  a  separate  concert  .  .  .  later. 

A  BROTHER-IN-LAW.  Then  give  me  back  my 
ten  kopeks. 

NAHMEN.  How?  What?  Oh,  yes.  Here's  your 
ten  kopeks  —  and  off  with  you  J  (To  the  INFORMER.) 
Move,  now !  One,  two,  three.  .  .  . 

A  BROTHER  (to  the  INFORMER.)  Come,  my  good 
sir,  we'll  keep  a  watchful  eye  on  you.  (The  five  men 
leave  with  him,  going  into  the  next  room;  they  are 
followed  by  general  laughter.) 

A  SISTER-IN-LAW.  Do  you  see  what  America 
makes  of  a  man? 

A  SECOND  SISTER-IN-LAW.  An  expert  shooter. 
(The  guests  appear;  the  RABBI  and  his  wife,  the  MER- 
CHANT and  his  wife,  the  CANTOR  and  his  wife.  They 


20  THE  PHONOGRAPH 

greet  all  with  a  "  Good  week!  "  and  from  all  sides 
comes  the  response,  "  Good  week!  Good  year!  ") 

NAHMEN  (to  the  previous  visitors}.  Will  all  of 
you  please  go  into  the  other  rooms.  You  can  hear 
from  there.  Then  we'll  have  more  room  in  here. 
And  more  air.  (The  people  walk  out  most  unwill- 
ingly. There  remain  only  NAHMEN'S  father  and 
mother,  his  father-in-law  and  mother-in-law  and  a  few 
elderly  folk.) 

THE  RABBI.  You  won't  be  offended  that  I've 
brought  my  wife  along? 

THE  RABBI'S  WIFE.  I  said  to  him :  Why  shouldn't 
I  have  the  pleasure? 

THE  MERCHANT.  I  did  the  same  thing  myself. 
Without  asking  your  permission. 

THE  MERCHANT'S  WIFE.  I  said  to  him:  Don't 
worry.  They  won't  drive  me  out. 

THE  CANTOR'S  WIFE.  And  /  said :  How  will  they 
do  without  an  expert  in  music,  like  myself? 

NAHMEN.  You  are  all  welcome,  I  assure  you. 
Let  me  introduce  my  wife.  Mrs.  Riskin,  as  the  Amer- 
icans say,  ha,  ha,  ha.  .  .  .  My  father,  my  mother.  .  .  . 

RABBI.  Yes,  yes,  we  know  them.  ...  So  that's 
the  machine?  That  box  there?  (They  group  them- 
selves around  the  table  and  feel  the  phonograph  with 
amazement.) 

CANTOR.  And  this  box  here  sings  like  a  cantor 
and  his  choir,  and  speaks  Hebrew? 

RABBI'S  WIFE.  I  thought  it  was  some  sort  of 
huge  box,  and  that  the  cantor  and  his  choir  got  in- 
side. . 


THE  PHONOGRAPH  21 

NAHMEN  (he  has  placed  a  record  upon  the  revolv- 
ing disc).  The  cantor  in  the  box  will  now  sing 
"  Lay  us  down,"  accompanied  by  his  choir. 

CANTOR.  "Lay  us  down  in  peace"?  Whose 
composition?  Pitshe,  the  cantor's?  (The  phono- 
graph begins  to  play.  No  sooner  have  the  first 
sounds  issued  from  the  machine  than  the  guests  al- 
most cry  in  astonishment.) 

CANTOR.  It's  really  "  Lay  us  down."  Wait ! 
Pitshe's?  Sulzer's?  The  Belzer's? 

CANTOR'S  WIFE.  Oh,  dear  me !  Just  listen  to 
that !  A  choir !  And  a  real  cantor ! 

MERCHANT'S  WIFE.  Why,  the  thing  is  really 
praying ! 

RABBI  (piously).  Blessed  be  the  Lord  that  He 
has  preserved  us  unto  this  day,  to  witness  this  mira- 
cle. (Smacks  his  lips  with  pleasure  and  fervor.) 

RABBI'S  WIFE  (begins  to  peep  under  the  table,  as 
if  seeking  some  concealed  persons,  and  then  eyes 
NAHMEN  with  a  penetrating  glance,  to  see  whether 
the  tones  are  not  coming  from  him.) 

CANTOR  (delighted,  begins  to  sway  piously  to  and 
fro,  chiming  in  with  the  music  between  his  exclama- 
tions). Ay,  ay,  ay!  .  .  .  "  And  succor  us."  .  .  . 

MERCHANT.     Hush ! 

CANTOR  (bites  his  under  lip,  shuts  his  eyes,  sways 
and  sways  to  and  fro,  marking  time  with  his  right  in- 
dex finger.  At  last  he  cannot  restrain  an  outburst  of 
admiration  and  enthusiasm).  Ay,  ay,  ay!  ... 

CANTOR'S  WIFE  (places  her  hand  over  his  mouth, 


23  THE  PHONOGRAPH 

but  he  does  not  cease  to  sway,  until  the  record  comes 
to  its  end.  Then  he  opens  his  eyes). 

CANTOR.  Ay,  ay,  ay.  .  .  .  As  far  as  the  cantor 
is  concerned, —  well,  we'll  let  that  pass.  I've  heard 
plenty  of  them  in  my  day.  ...  I  heard  Pitshe  him- 
self. ...  I  myself,  if  I  only  had  a  few  of  those  upper 
notes,  and  also  a  few  of  those  lower  notes.  .  .  . 

CANTOR'S  WIFE.  And  a  few  of  the  middle  ones 
and  a  few  of  those  between  the  upper  ones  and  the 
middle  ones  and  between  the  middle  ones  and  the 
lower  ones.  .  .  . 

MERCHANT.  Oh,  I  guess  that  when  the  Holy  Days 
come  around  again,  we'll  rather  put  this  phonograph 
before  the  altar,  instead  of  the  cantor. 

CANTOR.  And  suppose  that  fellow  inside  there 
sang  without  his  hat  on  ? 

RABBI.  Wonder  of  wonders  1  I  can't  find  words. 
There  stands  a  box,  and  out  of  the  box  issues  a  voice, 
a  chorus  of  voices,  a  cantor  and  his  choir,  and  chants 
a  prayer,  in  really  excellent  Hebrew, —  pure  Hebrew ! 
Miracles !  A  miracle  of  creation ! 

RABBI'S  WIFE.  I've  been  looking  under  the  table. 
I  shouldn't  be  surprised  if  somebody  were  concealed 
there. 

THE  MOTHER-IN-LAW.  God  befriend  you !  What 
are  you  talking  about,  good  woman? 

NAHMEN  (after  having  put  on  another  record). 
Now  you're  going  to  hear  another  prayer.  So  sweet 
that  it  simply  turns  your  head.  (The  phonograph 
begins  to  play.  Suddenly  a  cry  arises  from  without, 
growing  to  a  tumult.) 


THE  PHONOGRAPH  23 

LIBBE.     Oh !     What  can  that  be  ? 

NAHMEN  (seizes  the  phonograph  and  carries  it 
into  another  room). 

THE  TOWN  IDIOT  (comes  dashing  into  the  house). 
I'm  a  funnygraf,  too!  I'm  a  funnygraf!  (Goes 
through  the  motions  of  winding  himself  up  and  com- 
mences to  sing  in  wild  tones.) 

NAHMEN  (returns,  and  with  the  aid  of  a  few  others 
throws  the  IDIOT  out). 

MERCHANT'S  WIFE.     I  am  so  scared! 

LIBBE.     I'm  trembling  from  head  to  foot. 

MERCHANT.  And  meanwhile  the  music  was  cut 
short. 

CANTOR.     Ay,  ay,  ay !  .  .  . 

RABBI.     Wonder  of  wonders ! 

CANTOR'S  WIFE.  Can  you  bring  the  cantor  in  the 
box  back  now? 

NAHMEN.  No  more.  It's  closed  now,  for  good. 
It  isn't  so  easy  to  open  it.  And  it's  time  to  clear  the 
crowd  away  from  the  windows.  (Opens  a  window 
and  calls  to  the  crowd.)  You  can  break  up  now. 
There'll  be  no  more  singing.  It's  been  closed.  (He 
closes  the  window,  and  from,  outside  comes  the  bustle, 
noise  and  laughter  of  a  crowd  that  gradually  disap- 
pears. Some  of  the  visitors  begin  to  leave,  too,  wish- 
ing a  "  good  year  "  as  they  go.) 

RABBI.  Thanks  for  the  entertainment.  (Aris- 
ing.) And  if  you  should  invite  me  again,  I'll  cer- 
tainly thank  you. 

RABBI'S  WIFE  (approaching  the  table  and  looking 
underneath).  I  simply  can't  get  it  out  of  my  head 


24  THE  PHONOGRAPH 

that.  .  .  .  Maybe  Reb  Nahmen  is  a  ventriloquist? 
(Laughter.)  There  are  such  people,  you  know.  .  .  . 

CANTOR.  I've  got  a  good  mind  to  learn  those 
pieces.  Too  bad  we  didn't  hear  the  whole  of  the  sec- 
ond selection.  I'll  have  to  hear  it  over  and  over 
again.  The  cantor  isn't  so  much,  but  the  choir,  the 
choir!  If  I  only  had  such  a  choir,  and  those  upper 
notes.  .  .  . 

CANTOR'S  WIFE.  Ah,  ah !  If  I  only  had  that  box 
for  a  husband ! 

RABBI.  You've  already  told  us  at  the  synagogue 
how  our  fellow  Jews  live  in  America.  I'd  certainly 
be  glad  to  hear  more  and  more.  But  you  must  be 
weary  from  the  journey.  You  arrived  yesterday  eve- 
ning, and  I  guess  you've  been  talking  aplenty  since 
then.  And  I've  got  a  great  deal  to  do  myself,  to- 
night. Tomorrow,  after  prayers,  if  you'll  have  the 
time,  you'll  please  remind  me  that  I  wished  to  ask 
you  something. 

NAHMEN  (somewhat  impatient).    Surely.     Surely. 

RABBI.     A  good  week  to  you. 

RABBI'S  WIFE.  A  good  week  to  you  and  many 
thanks.  There  isn't  any  witchcraft  about  all  this,  is 
there,  Reb  Nahmen  ?  I  mean  to  say.  .  .  .  You  know. 
.  .  .  What  can't  folks  do  with  witchcraft  ? 

RABBI.     But  witchcraft  wouldn't  say  prayers. 

CANTOR'S  WIFE.  Let  it  be  witchcraft,  so  long  as 
it's  beautiful.  Good  week  to  you. 

CANTOR.  Ay,  ay,  ay !  Ah !  Na !  Well,  good 
week  to  you.  (The  CANTOR  and  his  wife  leave.) 


THE  PHONOGRAPH  25 

MEBCHANT.  And  I'm  not  going  yet,  because  I 
have  something  to  talk  over  with  you. 

NAHMEN  (impatient,  casting  a  glance  in  the  direc- 
tion of  the  door  behind  which  the  INFORMER  is  held 
captive). 

MERCHANT.  Business.  And  I  don't  like  to  post- 
pone business  matters. 

NAHMEN.  Just  a  minute.  I  must  tell  my  broth- 
ers something.  They  are  in  the  next  room.  (NAH- 
MEN goes  out.) 

MERCHANT.  There's  business  in  America !  Every 
man  ought  to  take  a  trip  to  America.  That's  where 
you  can  learn  a  thing  or  two  and  make  rapid  strides. 
Ah,  America !  The  greatest  millionaires !  And 
everything's  reckoned  in  dollars !  Do  you  realize 
what  that  means  ?  If  a  man  has  a  million  over  there, 
it's  like  two  million  over  here !  Do  you  see  the  vast 
difference?  If  I  have  a  hundred  rubles  in  my  pocket 
now,  and  go  to  America,  it  becomes  fifty  —  do  you 
see  that  difference?  I  become  a  poor  man.  And  on 
the  contrary,  if  I  have  a  hundred  dollars  in  my  pocket 
and  come  from  there  to  here,  I  have  two  hundred 
rubles.  Do  you  understand  what  it  means?  Ay, 
America ! 

NAHMEN  (enters,  closing  the  door  behind  him). 
To  tell  the  truth,  I'm  feeling  very  tired.  .  «  , 

MERCHANT.  If  you  refuse  to  talk  business  merely 
because  you're  tired,  then  you're  no  business  man. 
An  American  business  man  is  certainly  never  tired. 

NAHMEN.     That's  just  what  I  was  about  to  say. 


26  THE  PHONOGRAPH 

To  tell  the  truth,  I  am  quite  tired  —  I  returned  only 
yesterday,  after  a  hard  voyage.  But  since  it's  a 
matter  of  business,  there  must  be  no  delay.  Only  re- 
member that  I  believe  in  the  American  way :  a  word,  a 
nod  —  done. 

MERCHANT.  But  it  doesn't  seem  to  me  that  in 
America  they  do  business  before  a  roomful  of  people. 

MOTHER-IN-LAW.     That  means  us,  I  presume. 

FATHER-IN-LAW.  Then  let's  be  off.  (The  FA- 
THER and  MOTHER,  the  FATHER-IN-LAW  and  the 
MOTHER-IN-LAW,  and  the  other  guests,  rise,  exchange 
wishes  for  a  good  week,  and  leave.  The  wives  of  the 
five  men  who  are  guarding  the  INFORMER  go  to  their 
husbands.  LIBBE  sits  down  beside  the  MERCHANT'S 
WIFE.) 

MERCHANT.  I  have  no  objection  to  our  wives  re- 
maining here. 

NAHMEN  (nervous;  takes  out  a  cigarette,  lights  it, 
and  is  about  to  replace  his  cigarette-case  when  he  be- 
thinks himself,  and  offers  it  to  the  MERCHANT).  Do 
you  smoke? 

MERCHANT.  What's  the  sense  of  smoking?  It's 
money  thrown  out. —  Well,  tell  me  just  what  you  in- 
tend to  do  with  your  machine. 

NAHMEN.     Business,  of  course. 

MERCHANT.     Very  well ;  but  just  how? 

NAHMEN.     Just  like  that. 

MERCHANT.  What  do  you  mean:  "just  like 
that"? 

NAHMEN.  I  have  brought  a  machine  that  sings 
and  plays  —  gives  concerts.  And  there  is  a  public 


THE  PHONOGRAPH  27 

here  that's  fond  of  singing  and  playing  —  is  fond  of 
concerts.  That  makes  us  a  good  match. 

MERCHANT.  True.  True.  So,  from  the  way  it 
seems,  you'll  hire  a  store,  and  set  up  a  sort  of  thea- 
tre. .  .  . 

NAHMEN.     I'll  see  to  the  details  later. 

MERCHANT.  And  you'll  remain  in  this  town  all 
the  time? 

NAHMEN.  Maybe  I'll  pay  visits  to  the  surround- 
ing towns,  where  there  are  no  phonographs. 

MERCHANT.  Hm !  Go  on  the  road,  too.  That's 
what  I  thought.  Travel,  too.  When  the  market 
grows  dull  here,  and  the  people  have  had  their  fill, 
you'll  go  "  on  the  road,"  and  when  you  return, 
the  folks  here  will  be  ready  for  more.  Isn't  that 
so? 

NAHMEN.     That's  how  I  look  at  it. 

MERCHANT.     Then  we  agree. 

NAHMEN.  But  what  business  did  you  want  to 
speak  of? 

MERCHANT.  That's  exactly  to  what  we  are  com- 
ing now.  Just  why  is  your  business  a  business,  or  as 
you  put  it, —  a  match?  Because  you  have  the  ma- 
chine that  sings,  and  the  public  likes  singing.  But 
suppose  there  is  another  machine  hereabouts,  and  yet 
another?  The  match  begins  to  get  a  bit  shaky,  and 
the  business  is  spoiled.  And  if  these  other  machines 
should  get  ahead  of  you  in  the  other  towns,  then  the 
business  is  certainly  ruined.  Do  you  understand? 

NAHMEN.  I  can't  see  what  you're  driving  at. — 
Are  you  going  to  order  other  machines? 


28 

MERCHANT.  Well,  well !  You  have  a  smart  head 
on  your  shoulders ! 

LIBBE  (groans). 

NAHMEN.     Then  why  need  you  tell  me  all  this? 

MERCHANT.  Because  I'm  an  honest  man.  In- 
stead of  becoming  your  competitor,  I  prefer  to  be- 
come your  partner. 

NAHMEN.  Partner?  What  do  I  need  a  partner 
for? 

MERCHANT.  Then  I'll  be  your  competitor. 
What  do  you  need  a  competitor  for?  —  How  much 
do  you  expect  to  ask  for  admission? 

NAHMEN.  How  much?  Twenty  kopeks. —  Twen- 
ty-five kopeks.  Children,  ten  kopeks. 

MERCHANT.  And  your  competitor  can  make  the 
fee  cheaper.  You  know  yourself,  I  have  a  store  in 
my  own  building.  I  won't  have  to  pay  any  rent.  .  .  . 

NAHMEN.  And  what  are  your  terms  of  partner- 
ship ? 

MERCHANT.     We'll  divide  the  profits. 

NAHMEN.  How  much  money  will  you  invest  in  the 
business  ? 

MERCHANT.  Invest  money?  What  do  you  need 
money  for?  To  put  in  chairs?  To  pay  rent? 
You'd  have  to  do  that  anyway. 

NAHMEN.     Then  what  sort  of  partner  are  you? 

MERCHANT.  My  partnership  will  consist  in  my 
not  being  a  competitor. 

NAHMEN.     And  for  that  you  ask  half  the  profits? 

MERCHANT.  Naturally.  If  I  should  become  your 
competitor,  you'd  be  lucky  to  make  the  half  that 


THE  PHONOGRAPH  29 

you'll   have   under   the   terms    of   our  partnership. 

NAHMEN.     Hmmm.  .  .  . 

MERCHANT.  You'll  rent  the  store  from  me.  I'll 
let  you  have  it  very  cheap.  Cheaper  than  it  was. 

NAHMEN.     And  suppose  I  don't  care  to? 

MERCHANT.     Then  I'll  send  for  several  machines. 

LIBBE.  You've  got  enough  business  of  your  own, 
I  should  think! 

MERCHANT.  There's  no  such  thing  as  enough  in 
business.  Now  your  husband  knows  how  they  do  in 
America. 

LIBBE.     But  this  business  wasn't  your  idea. 

MERCHANT.  And  do  you  think  that  I  thought 
out  my  other  business  ventures?  Who  cares  about 
who  thought  it  out.  Business  is  business.  As  soon 
as  a  new  business  appears,  it  becomes  public  prop- 
erty. Whoever  has  the  money,  may  engage  in  it. 

LIBBE.  But  to  snatch  the  food  out  of  another 
man's  mouth! 

MERCHANT.  Business !  And  suppose  he  takes  it 
into  his  head  to  steal  my  business?  Maybe  he  can 
run  it  better  than  I  can.  For  he's  an  American, 
recollect. 

A  BROTHER  (enters).  See  here.  This  has  got  to 
end  sometime.  We  can't  stay  in  there  all  night.  .  .  . 

NAHMEN.     Come  in,  all  of  you. 

BROTHER.     All?     Shall  we  bring  him  in,  too? 

NAHMEN.  Surely.  (Calls  into  the  next  room.) 
Come  in,  all  of  you  !  Bring  him  in,  too  ! 

MERCHANT.  Whom  shall  they  bring  in?  The 
phonograph? 


30  THE  PHONOGRAPH 

MERCHANT'S  WIFE  (uneasy).  I  think  it  would  .be 
better  if  we  went  home.  (The  guards  and  their  wives 
enter  with  the  INFORMER.) 

MERCHANT.  He?  What  has  this  fellow  been  do- 
ing here? 

NAHMEN.     He  wished  to  become  my  partner,  too. 

MERCHANT.     He  ? 

NAHMEN.  Why  not?  And  if  I  wasn't  willing,  he 
threatened  to  inform  against  me. 

MERCHANT.  A  dangerous  fellow.  We'll  have  to 
attend  to  him  — 

NAHMEN.  I've  done  that  already.  You'll  see  at 
once  how  he  writes  me  out  a  document  that'll  make 
him  hold  his  tongue.  (Takes  out  his  revolver.)  Sit 
down,  my  fine  fellow,  and  write !  (At  sight  of  the  re- 
volver the  MERCHANT'S  WIFE  recoils  in  fright;  the 
MERCHANT,  too,  is  uneasy;  the  guards,  without  any 
too  great  tenderness,  seat  the  INFORMER  and  force 
the  pen  in  between  his  fingers.)  And  see  that  your 
fingers  fly  this  time,  or  I'll  see  to  it  that  you  have  a 
few  less.  You  know  already  what  you're  supposed 
to  write.  You  offer  me  counterfeit  bills.  (To  the 
guards.)  Watch  what  he  writes.  So  that  he  won't 
have  to  do  it  over  again.  I've  got  something  else  to 
attend  to  now.  (Pointing  the  weapon  at  the  MER- 
CHANT.) You're  going  to  sit  down  and  write  some- 
thing for  me,  too. 

MERCHANT'S  WIFE.  Oh!  My  God!  Oh!  I'll 
raise  an  outcry !  .  .  . 

NAHMEN.     If  you  dare,  I'll  shoot  you.     Under- 


THE  PHONOGRAPH  31 

stand ;  I'm  an  American.  You  heard  your  own  hus- 
band say  so. 

MERCHANT  (bewildered).     What  shall  I  write? 

NAHMEN.  First  sit  down  where  you  were  before. 
Right  here  at  the  table.  Libbe,  let's  have  another 
pen. 

LIBBE  (exit). 

NAHMEN  (to  the  MERCHANT'S  WIFE).  And  you 
sit  down,  too,  where  you  sat  before.  And  be  quiet. 
Not  a  chirp  from  you,  remember.  Do  you  see  these 
six  holes  in  the  revolver?  These  are  for  six  bullets. 
Do  you  understand  what  that  means? 

MERCHANT'S  WIFE.  Oh,  I'm  ready  to  faint.  Oh, 
I'll  soon  take  one  of  my  shrieking  fits !  .  .  . 

NAHMEN.  Faint,  if  you  must.  But  none  of  your 
shrieking  fits.  Sit  still,  there.  As  soon  as  he  writes 
out  his  paper,  you  may  go  home  in  peace.  (To  the 
INFORMER.)  And  you  stop  looking  in  this  direc- 
tion. Finish  your  writing  J 

LIBBE  (enters  with  a  pen). 

NAHMEN  (giving  the  pen  to  the  MERCHANT  and 
handing  him  a  sheet  of  paper) .  Write  down  that  if 
another  phonograph  should  appear  in  this  town  you 
must  give  me  five  thousand  rubles. 

MERCHANT.  Even  if  the  machines  are  not  ordered 
by  me? 

NAHMEN.  Even  if  not  ordered  by  you.  And  none 
of  your  chaffering.  Write  as  I  tell  you.  And  as  a 
wise  precaution,  you'll  write  me  a  note  for  five  thou- 
sand rubles. 


33  THE  PHONOGRAPH 

MERCHANT.  I'll  write  no  notes  ;  under  no  circum- 
stances. 

NAHMEN  (bringing  the  weapon  close  to  the  MER- 
CHANT'S face}.  You  won't,  ha? 

MERCHANT'S  WIFE.     Oy,  oy,  oy !  .  .  . 

NAHMEN.  Hush,  there  1  (To  a  BROTHER.)  Go, 
Layzer,  and  fetch  us  a  note  somewhere. 

BROTHER.     Where  can  I  get  one  now  ? 

NAHMEN.  From  hell  itself,  if  you  must.  Hurry. 
You'll  surely  get  one  at  Hirshe  the  money  lender's. 

BROTHER  (exit). 

MERCHANT.     But  this  is  highway  robbery. 

NAHMEN.  Write  and  keep  your  mouth  shut. 
We'll  discuss  robbery  later. 

INFORMER  (to  the  MERCHANT).  We  can  both 
learn  our  business  from  him. 

NAHMEN.     Finish  your  writing ! 

INFORMER.  I've  finished  already.  All  I  need  do 
is  sign  my  name.  Such  an  outrage. 

NAHMEN.  So.  Now  let's  have  what  you've  writ- 
ten. (Takes  the  document  from  the  INFORMER.  To 
the  MERCHANT.)  Sit  still,  there.  Don't  dare  to 
stir.  (Takes  the  paper  from  him  likewise.)  Now 
all  you  have  to  do  is  write  out  a  note. 

INFORMER.     May  I  go  now? 

NAHMEN.  Wait  till  I  read  this  through.  Then 
you  can  go  to  hell  for  all  I  care.  (He  scans  both 
documents.)  Fine.  Excellent.  (Giving  them  to 
LIBBE.)  Fold  them  and  place  them  here  in  my  inside 
pocket.  Libbe,  I'm  going  to  become  a  great  business 
man.  I  didn't  realize  myself  what  was  in  me.  Do 


THE  PHONOGRAPH  33 

you  hear?  I'm  a  different  person  entirely,  it  seems. 
How  shall  I  put  it?  I  seem  to  have  grown  up.  .  .  . 
I  seem.  .  .  . 

BROTHER  (running  into  the  house).  The  police 
are  coming!  (Intense  amazement.) 

INFORMER.  And  I  not  the  informer!  Disgust- 
ing! 


CURTAIN 


THE  GOD  OF  THE   NEWLY  RICH 
WOOL  MERCHANT 


PERSONS 

THE  NEWLY  RICH  WOOL  MERCHANT. 

His  WIFE. 

His  SON. 

His  MOTHER. 

THE  ORGANIST. 

THE  BUTLER. 

AN  USHER. 

A  DOCTOR. 

GUESTS,  USHERS,  SERVANTS,  ETC. 


THE  GOD  OF  THE  NEWLY  RICH 
WOOL  MERCHANT 

SCENE  :  A  vast,  temple-like  hall  in,  the  home  of  the 
WOOL  MERCHANT,  illuminated  by  countless  electric 
lights  upon  the  ceiling  and  the  walls.  Floor,  ceil- 
ing and  walls  are  alike  covered  with  wool,  the  floor 
with  earth  colored  wool,  the  watts  with  wool  of 
bright  rose  hue,  the  ceilmg  sky  blue.  At  the  rear 
a  Holy  Ark,  bedecked  with  purple-red  wool;  the 
Ark  is  approached  by  several  steps  that  lead  to  a 
broad  altar  platform.  The  curtains  of  the  Ark 
are  of  white  wool  and  are  adorned  with  purple-red 
woollen  David's  shields  (six-cornered  stars). 
Above  the  Holy  Ark  are  the  pipes  of  a  huge  organ, 
enveloped  in  white  wool.  A  broad  strip  of  green 
wool  extends  entirely  across  the  middle  of  the 
stage,  leading  also  from  the  doors  to  the  steps  be- 
fore the  Holy  Ark  and  covering  also  the  steps  and 
the  altar.  On  both  sides  of  the  Holy  Ark,  placed 
perpendicularly  to  the  rear  watt  and  reaching  to 
the  central  green  strip,  rows  of  benches;  each  bench 
can  hold  four  persons  and  is  covered  with  dark 
blue  wool.  Two  doors  at  the  right  and  left  re- 
spectively are  similarly  covered  with  dark  blue 
wool.  The  WOOL  MERCHANT,  a  man  of  middle 
age  with  a  flourishing  white  beard,  and  the  ORGAN- 
IST, gray  and  clean  shaven,  are  discovered  standing 
37 


38        GOD  OF  THE  NEWLY  RICH  WOOL  MERCHANT 

not  far  from  the  door  to  the  right,  engrossed  in 
conversation. 

THE  WOOL  MERCHANT.  Yes,  indeed.  You  have 
succeeded  admirably,  I  must  admit.  The  truth  is  the 
truth.  Your  music  serves  my  purpose  splendidly. 
It  is  suited  to  prayer  as  well  as  to  dancing.  Don't  I 
seem  crazy  to  you  with  all  my  dancing?  Don't  I  ap- 
pear foolish  to  you? 

ORGANIST.  -  H'm !  Indeed !  Why  ?  I  understand 
you  perfectly.  The  ancient  Greeks  danced,  too, 
when  they  worshipped  their  gods. 

MERCHANT.  King  David,  too,  danced  before  the 
ark.  When  you  feel  God  very  close  to  you,  you  wish 
to  serve  him  with  every  limb.  So  you  have  to  dance. 
Naturally,  I  don't  do  it  so  well  yet.  Of  course,  an 
experienced  dancer  would  do  it  far  better,  far  more 
gracefully.  You  will  be  so  kind  as  to  play  over  for 
me  your  finale  —  from  that  point  where  the  dance 
grows  faster  and  more  ardent.  You  know  —  trala, 
la,  la,  la.  ...  Will  you  have  the  kindness? 

ORGANIST.     With  pleasure! 

MERCHANT.  I  want  to  have  just  one  more  little 
rehearsal  —  to  dance  through  that  finale  just  once 
more. 

ORGANIST  (bows  and  leaves  through  the  door  at  the 
right). 

MERCHANT  (raises  his  arms  and  begins  to  make 
pious  dance  gestures,  rolling  his  eyes  and  closing 
them.  At  first  his  movements  are  slow,  then  they 
become  livelier.  The  organ  commences  to  play.  The 


GOD  OF  THE  NEWLY  RICH  WOOL  MERCHANT        39 

time  is  a  fervent  Chassidic  dance,  full  of  devotional 
ecstasy.  The  MERCHANT  now  dances  with  abandon, 
moving  every  limb,  and  takes  his  course  over  the  green 
path  to  the  holy  ark.  Reaching  the  altar  he  becomes 
rigid,  transfixed,  and  slowly  walks  up  the  steps.  The 
organ  ceases  to  play.  For  a  moment  the  MERCHANT 
remains  motionless,  then  he  faces  slowly  about, 
austere  and  rigid,  turning  his  head  from  left  to  right 
and  from  right  to  left,  as  if  he  were  considering  the 
crowd  upon  the  benches;  he  moves  his  lips  as  if  de- 
livering a  speech.  Enter  the  ORGANIST.  The  MER- 
CHANT turns  to  him).  It  gets  better  with  each  re- 
hearsal. If  I  only  had  more  time  I'd  work  it  out  still 
better.  But  what's  the  difference?  The  first  time 
they'll  laugh,  anyway,  no  matter  how  well  I  do  it. 
Later,  they'll  all  dance  with  me.  I  said,  "  To-day." 
Then,  to-day  it  shall  be.  To-day  I  reveal  myself ;  to- 
day I  declare  myself.  Go  now  to  the  organ  and  hold 
yourself  in  readiness.  Your  music  certainly  will  be 
a  success.  I  only  wish  that  my  dance  will  meet  with 
the  same  favor.  Go  now  and  send  the  butler  in  to  me. 

ORGANIST  (bowing).  The  best  of  luck  to  you. 
(Exit  through  the  door  at  the  right.) 

MERCHANT  (again  assumes  his  serious,  stiff  atti- 
tude and  begins  to  move  his  lips). 

THE  BUTLER  (enters  from  the  door  at  the  right). 
CHANT  (descends  from  the  altar).  We  are  to 
beto...  rt  once.  I  am  going  to  dress.  Let  the  guests 
enter.  (Exit  through  the  right  hand  door.) 

BUTLER  (opens  the  left  hand  door  and  announces). 
You  are  invited  to  enter.  (There  enter  at  first  sev- 


40        GOD  OF  THE  NEWLY  RICH  WOOL  MERCHANT 

eral  USHERS,  followed  by  the  GUESTS.  Att  are  dressed 
in  fine  array,  at  their  head  the  WOOL  MERCHANT'S 
WIFE,  His  MOTHER,  His  SON  and  DAUGHTER.  After 
all  the  guests  have  come  in  the  BUTLER  closes  the 
door,  crossing  to  the  right  door  and  standing  guard 
over  it.  The  USHERS  show  the  GUESTS  to  their  seats 
and  take  their  places  upon  either  side,  forward.  The 
WIFE,  the  MOTHER,  the  SON  and  the  DAUGHTER  are 
seated  at  the  left,  in  the  front  row.  All  gaze  around 
in  bewilderment.) 

VOICES.  A  synagogue !  —  A  temple !  —  A  holy 
ark !  —  An  organ !  —  And  everything  covered  with 
wool! 

A  GUEST  (behmd  the  WOOL  MERCHANT'S  WIFE). 
What  can  all  this  mean  ? 

WIFE.     I'm  just  as  astonished  as  you  are. 

GUEST.     Didn't  you  know,  either? 

WIFE.  I'm  ashamed  to  tell.  He  never  permitted 
me  to  enter  this  place  and  never  said  a  word  about 
what  he  was  building  here.  And  I  had  to  give  him 
my  word  that  I'd  never  peek  into  this  hall,  even  if 
I  died  from  curiosity.  But  he  had  to  pay  me  hand- 
somely for  the  promise. 

DAUGHTER.     And  he  paid  me  handsomely,  too. 

SON.  I  got  my  share,  also.  "  If  you  don't  give 
me  so  much  and  so  much,  then  I'll  ferret  out  your  se- 
cret." I'm  sorry  that  he  is  to  make  it  public.  It 
was  such  an  excellent  business. 

MOTHER.  This  is  a  most  pleasant  surprise  to  me. 
To  think  that  he's  built  a  synagogue  of  his  own  in  his 


GOD  OF  THE  NEWLY  RICH  WOOL  MERCHANT        41 

very  house  —  holy  ark,  sacred  scrolls  and  all.  And 
here  was  I,  thinking  what  a  pity  it  had  been  to  spend 
so  much  effort,  from  his  earliest  days,  to  make  a  pious 
Jew  of  him. 

GUEST.  But  look,  an  organ ;  a  reformed  syna- 
gogue. 

MOTHER.  That  makes  no  difference.  Now  I 
know  that  there  will  be  a  son  to  pray  for  my  soul. 

SON.  Only  let  him  not  ask  me  to  go  to  the  syna- 
gogue. 

MOTHER.  Will  it  be  such  a  long  journey?  The 
synagogue  has  come  to  you. 

DAUGHTER.  Now,  mother,  you  may  expect  us  to 
have  kosher  meals  once  again. 

GUEST.     Where  is  he  now? 

WIFE.  I  don't  know  any  better  than  you.  He 
must  be  behind  the  door  where  the  butler  is  standing 
guard.  He  is  surely  not  through  yet  with  his  dress- 
ing. 

SON.     He'll  enter  in  a  prayer  shawl,  most  likely. 

MOTHER.     That's  right !     Ridicule  your  father  ! 

WIFE  (arises,  and  is  about  to  approach  the  BUT- 
LER). 

AN  UsrfER  (bars  her  way).  Kindly  be  seated. 
No  moving  about. 

WIFE.     But  I  am  — 

USHER.  I  know.  Nevertheless,  you  will  be  so 
kind  as  to  remain  seated. 

WIFE.     Where  is  your  master? 

USHER.     I  do  not  know. 


42       GOD  OF  THE  NEWLY  RICH  WOOL  MERCHANT 

WIFE.     Is  he  soon  coming  in  ? 

USHER.  I  do  not  know.  (He  forces  her  back  to 
her  seat.) 

WIFE  (angrily).  "Do  not  know!  Do  not 
know!"  (Takes  her  seat.)  Very  soon  we'll  all 
know.  So  you  may  as  well  tell  us  now! 

USHER.     Do  not  know. 

SON.  I'll  take  you  by  the  collar  and  give  you  such 
a  shaking  out.  .  .  . 

(Suddenly  the  organ  commences  to  play.  The 
door  at  the  right  is  thrown  wide  open;  first  enter  two 
men  garbed  from  head  to  foot  in  red  wool  —  in  wool- 
len surplices,  girdles,  shoes  and  caps  —  with  electric 
torches  m  their  hands;  behind  them,  four  men  in  pur- 
ple red  wool,  bearing  upon  a  board  similarly  covered, 
a  holy  scroll  with  white  woollen  cover;  behind,  two 
other  men  in  red  wool,  with  electric  torches  in  their 
hands.  At  last,  the  WOOL  MERCHANT  himself  comes 
in,  dressed  in  white  wool  and  wearing  a  white  girdle 
that  sparkles  with  diamonds.  The  procession  crosses 
the  green  path  to  the  holy  ark.  The  organ  plays  a 
medley  of  synagogue,  church  and  Chassidic  music. 
The  MERCHANT  at  first  moves  with  slow  dance  ges- 
tures and  soon  gives  himself  up  to  the  dance  of  devo- 
tional ecstasy.  The  audience  is  astounded,  looking 
on  with  mouths  agape  and  with  a  suppressed  "  Oh!  " 
Now  they  look  at  one  another  with  signs  of  stupe- 
faction and  soon  must  struggle  to  restrain  their 
laughter.  Here  and  there  may  be  heard  the  explo- 
sion of  ill-contained  merriment.  The  men  bearing 
the  holy  scroll  mount  the  steps  of  the  altar  and  re- 


GOD  OF  THE  NEWLY  RICH  WOOL  MERCHANT       43 

main  standing  in  the  centre;  two  of  the  torch  bearers 
stand  at  either  side  of  the  stage.  The  MERCHANT 
now  assumes  his  stiff  posture  and  advances  slowly  up 
the  steps.  The  organ  stops  playing;  the  MERCHANT 
faces  the  audience  with  an  austere,  rigid  mien ;  many 
of  the  guests  are  holding  their  palms  across  their 
mouths;  the  WIFE,  the  MOTHER,  the  DAUGHTER  and 
the  SON  sit  in  dumfounded  perplexity.) 

MERCHANT.  Ladies  and  gentlemen:  I  have  as- 
sembled you  to  behold  a  new  service  which  I  myself 
have  established  to  worship  the  God  that  made  me  — 
who  made  me  what  I  now  am. 

SON  (in  a  whisper).     Comedy! 

MERCHANT  (closes  his  eyes,  as  if  from  the  pam  of 
the  insult,  and  then  opens  them,  assuming  a  stern 
countenance).  Who  has  made  me  what  I  now  am? 
Answer :  Who  has  made  me  what  I  now  am  ? 

WIFE.  Who,  then,  should  have  made  you  what 
you  now  are? 

MERCHANT.     Is  that  an  answer  ? 

SON.  You  alone  made  yourself  what  you  are  to- 
day. You're  a  self-made  man. 

MERCHANT.  I  never  expected  you  to  be  able  to 
recognize  true  divinity. 

MOTHER.  God.  God  has  made  you  what  you  are 
to-day. 

MERCHANT  (sarcastically).  God!  Which  God? 
I'm  now  fifty  years  old.  Where  was  that  God  of 
whom  you  prate  and  whom  you  always  have  in  mind, 
where  was  he  up  to  ten  years  ago?  How  much  did  I 
not  suffer  up  to  ten  years  ago?  What  didn't  I 


44       GOD  OF  THE  NEWLY  RICH  WOOL  MERCHANT 

endure?  I  was  born  in  poverty,  of  parents  who  in- 
sisted upon  making  a  rabbi  of  me. 

MOTHER.  Would  to  God  you  had  really  become 
one. 

MERCHANT.  But  I  didn't.  I  wandered  from  one 
religious  academy  to  the  other,  ate  at  strangers' 
tables  and  worked  myself  up  to  be  a  teacher  of  He- 
brew. Then  I  left  home  and  came  to  America, 
worked  in  a  shop  as  a  "  greenhorn,"  became  a  con- 
tractor in  boys'  trousers,  then  changed  over  to  petti- 
coats and  at  last  began  to  deal  in  wool.  Then  who 
made  me  what  I  am  to-day?  (Silence.) 

DAUGHTER  (diffidently).     The  wool? 

MERCHANT  (ihwnders  forth,  in  exaltation).  The 
wool !  (Stands  motionless,  his  eyes  glassy;  soon 
closes  them  and  lowers  his  head  as  if  in  prayer. 
Then  he  opens  his  eyes  and  views  his  audience  with 
high-spirited  contentment;  he  speaks  in  soft  toned 
ecstasy.)  The  wool!  The  wool  —  God!  (A  gasp 
of  horror  rises  from  his  hearers.  The  WIFE,  the 
MOTHER,  the  DAUGHTER  and  a  few  other  women  bring 
their  hands  to  their  faces.  The  men  look  at  each 
other.)  Why  do  you  all  sit  there  so  frightened? 
You  imagine  that  I'm  wandering  in  my  speech.  You 
haven't  yet  understood  me.  I  knew  that  you  would 
not  understand  me.  I'll  explain  myself.  Know, 
then,  that  everything  has  its  own  god.  The  people 
whom  we  call  primitive  and  wild  knew  this.  They 
were  nearer  to  nature  and,  therefore,  knew  it.  The 
gods  revealed  themselves  to  these  primitive  folk. 
Jewish  mysticism,  too,  had  a  glimpse  of  this.  But  it 


GOD  OF  THE  NEWLY  RICH  WOOL  MERCHANT        45 

was  too  greatly  influenced  by  the  belief  in  a  single 
Jewish  God,  hence  did  not  attain  to  the  real  truth. 

MOTHER.     Woe  is  me.     What  words  are  these? 

MERCHANT.  I  was  brought  up  to  believe  that 
everything  has  its  protector  in  heaven.  The  truth  is, 
however,  that  everything  has  its  own  god.  I  have 
served  many  a  god  in  my  time  and  none  of  them  de- 
sired or  was  able  to  help  me.  Not  the  god  of  reli- 
gious study  and  not  the  god  of  teaching;  neither  the 
god  of  boys'  trousers  nor  the  god  of  petticoats.  But 
when  I  turned  to  the  wool  god,  he  helped  me  at  once. 
In  ten  years  he  made  me  a  multi-millionaire.  (Rais- 
ing his  voice  and  with  a  remarkable  expression  in  his 
eyes.)  He  took  me  under  his  protection.  He  car- 
ried me  as  on  wings,  higher  and  higher,  higher  and 
ever  higher  — 

VOICES  (frightened).     Oh!     Woe,  woe!     Oh! 

MERCHANT  (as  if  wakened  from  a  trance).  Why 
your  cries  of  "woe,  woe"?  You  still  fail  to  grasp 
the  truth  of  my  words.  But  I  saw  the  truth  long 
ago.  I  recognized  my  true,  my  only  god,  who  has 
carried  me  to  my  present  heights.  And  I  have  reared 
a  temple  to  him  in  my  house  and  will  worship  him  to 
the  best  of  my  understanding.  And  all  of  you,  who 
have  been  helped  by  him  through  me  and  been  raised 
aloft,  will  worship  him  as  I  do,  together  with  me,  if 
you  do  not  wish  to  be  forsaken  by  him  and  me. 
(The  organ  commences  to  play  anew.  The  MER- 
CHANT turns  piously  toward  the  holy  ark.  Intense 
unrest  prevails  in  the  crowd  and  the  MERCHANT'S 
WIFE  wrings  her  hands.  The  MERCHANT  places  him- 


46       GOD  OF  THE  NEWLY  RICH  WOOL  MERCHANT 

self  between  the  holy  ark  and  the  board  that  bears  the 
holy  scroll;  the  board  has  during  this  time  been  low- 
ered from  the  shoulders  of  the  bearers  to  their  girdles; 
he  turns  now  to  the  audience  and  opens  the  sacred 
scroll.)  Here  is  the  symbol  of  my  god,  the  embodi- 
ment of  his  divinity.  (Replaces  the  scroll  upon  the 
board,  removes  the  cover  of  the  scroll,  also  the  inner 
wrapping  and  unrolls  the  scroll.  He  holds  it  aloft, 
spread  out,  each  handle  above  his  head.  The  scroll 
turns  out  to  be  a  white  roll  of  wool.)  This,  this  is 
the  god  that  elevated  me  to  my  present  state.  This 
is  the  god  that  from  now  on  you  will  have  to  worship 
together  with  me !  Through  him  are  we  all  what  we 
are  to-day !  He  has  made  us  rich.  He  1  i,s  made  us 
strong.  He  the  good  god,  the  sweet  god,  the  loving 
god !  Him  shall  we  love ;  him  shall  we  kiss  ;  him  shall 
we  embrace;  him  shall  we  worship  with  pious  dance. 
(He  works  himself  into  an  increasing  ecstatic  frenzy, 
drowning  with  his  cries  the  mightiest  fortissimo  of  the 
organ,  and  at  last  he  breaks  into  singing  at  the  top 
of  his  voice,  executing  at  the  same  time  various  dance 
gestures.)  There  is  no  god  like  our  god!  There  is 
no  lord  like  our  lord!  .  .  .  (The  terror  and  unrest 
of  the  audience  now  reach  their  highest  pitch;  here 
and  there  cries  are  heard,  until  at  last  the  shouting 
becomes  general.  "  He  is  mad!  He  has  gone  in- 
sane! "  The  DAUGHTER  becomes  hysterical;  the 
WIFE  wails,  wringing  her  hands  in  despair;  the 
MOTHER  tears  her  hair;  all  have  left  their  places  and 
gathered  into  a  group  of  frightened,  shouting,  ges- 
ticulating persons;  above  all  the  din  resound  the  high- 


GOD  OF  THE  NEWLY  RICH  WOOL  MERCHANT        47 

est  notes  of  the  organ;  only  the  men  upon  the  altar, 
the  USHERS  and  the  BUTLER  remain  calmly  m  their 
places  during  the  commotion.) 

SON  (says  something  to  one  of  the  GUESTS  ;  the  lat- 
ter dashes  out.  The  SON  then  turns  to  his  mother, 
sister  and  grandmother,  soothing  them  with  a  caress- 
ing hand;  he  is  pale  and  upset,  and  does  not  remove 
his  glance  from  his  father). 

MERCHANT  (looks  about  once  again  as  if  wakened 
from  a  trance,  and  cries  out).  Silence!  (The  or- 
gan and  the  crowd  become  suddenly  still,  thus  bring- 
ing out  in  greater  relief  the  hysterical  weeping  of  the 
DAUGHTER,  the  wailing  of  the  WIFE  and  the  MOTH- 
ER'S despairing  groans.  The  MERCHANT  lowers  the 
scroll  of  wool  slowly  to  the  board  and  cries  again.) 
Silence  I  What  sort  of  words  are  these?  How  did 
you  dare  to  speak  thus?  Why  this  sudden  outburst 
of  shouting?  Why  this  weeping?  Why  this  tearing 
of  hair?  Why  this  wringing  of  hands?  Why  this 
fright?  Does  a  madman  speak  as  I  have  spoken  to 
you?  I  merely  wanted  to  open  your  eyes.  Why  do 
you  refuse  to  understand  that  I  have  discovered  a 
truth  that  you,  too,  must  grasp?  Have  I  not  ex- 
pressed myself  clearly?  Is  anything  lacking  in  my 
logic?  Have  I  been  speaking  meaningless  words, 
without  any  coherence  at  all?  Do  the  preachers  and 
revivalists  speak  more  clearly  than  I?  Have  they 
any  better  proofs  than  I?  Think  the  matter  over 
well,  try  to  understand  me,  but  don't  say  that  I'm  in- 
sane. Don't  be  like  all  the  others,  who  call  him  crazy 
whom  they  do  not  understand.  Or  is  it  better  for 


48        GOD  OF  THE  NEWLY  RICH  WOOL  MERCHANT 

you  that  you  should  call  me  mad?  I  do  not  believe 
that  such  a  course  is  to  your  best  interest.  Our  busi- 
ness still  has  great  need  of  me.  I  am  still  the  chosen 
one  of  our  god.  Therefore,  it  is  better  for  you  all  to 
do  as  I  say.  Be  seated  and  hear  what  I  have  to  say 
further.  (The  GUESTS,  with  the  help  of  the  USHERS, 
find  their  seats  again,  but  they  are  still  perturbed, 
their  fright  showing  in  their  eyes.  The  WIFE,  the 
DAUGHTER  and  the  MOTHER  can  scarcely  restrain 
themselves.  The  SON  looks  impatiently  at  the  left- 
hand  door.)  Behold.  This  is  the  symbol  of  our 
god!  White  wool  upon  gilded  handles.  It  will  re- 
main here  in  the  holy  ark,  garbed  in  its  cloak.  At 
our  services  we  must  all  be  dressed  in  wool.  Just  like 
me  and  the  gentlemen  here.  I  —  in  white,  because  I 
count  myself  the  High  Priest.  We  shall  have  other 
colors,  however,  besides  white  and  red.  We  shall  in- 
stitute various  degrees,  and  every  degree  will  have 
its  distinguishing  color.  We  shall  pray  without 
words ;  with  dance  alone.  We  shall  have  only  a  few 
hymns.  With  song  and  dance  we  shall  remove  our 
wool-god  from  the  holy  ark ;  with  song  and  dance  we 
will  carry  him  about.  .  .  .  Don't  look  at  me  like  that. 
The  world  has  become  godless  because  we  have  lost  the 
right  road  to  the  gods.  I  have  found  my  god  and  the 
right  road  to  him.  Who  will  follow  me  upon  the  true 
path?  Who  will  be  a  convert  to  the  truth  that  I 
have  discovered?  Who  will  serve  with  me  our  true 
lord?  Who?  Who?  Who?  See,  the  wool-god 
has  made  us  rich !  He  has  made  our  day  bright,  he 
has  raised  us  from  the  mire  and  has  set  us  among  the 


GOD  OF  THE  NEWLY  RICH  WOOL  MERCHANT        49 

most  exalted !  He  has  filled  us  with  joy  and  fortune. 
He  has  .  .  . 

THE  DOCTOR  (enters,  accompanied  by  the  GUEST 
that  was  dispatched  after  him). 

MERCHANT  (suddenly  breaks  off  speaking;  his  eyes 
distend  and  his  mouth  opens  wide.  All  at  once  he 
exclaims,  wildly).  Who  sent  for  the  doctor?  Who 
called  the  doctor?  Out!  Out!  Everybody!  (To 
the  USHERS.  )  Drive  them  all  out !  ( The  GUESTS 
spring  up  from  their  seats  and  make  a  dash  for  the 
door  to  the  left.  The  BUTLER  and  the  USHER  thrust 
them  out  and  close  the  door.)  Out!  You  godless 
wretches !  You  infidels !  You  traitors !  You  in- 
grates!  Out!  Out!  Out!  (Runs  down  from  the 
altar  with  loud  outcry.)  Out!  out!  (Attacks  the 
BUTLER  and  the  USHER,  who  escape  through  the 
right-hand  door.  Then  he  makes  for  the  men  who 
are  standing  upon  the  altar  platform.  The  bearers 
of  the  scroll  drop  the  board,  and  the  eight  men  take 
to  flight  through  the  right  door.  The  MERCHANT 
turns  about  like  a  wheel,  waving  his  hands  and  kicking 
about.)  Out!  Out!  (With  the  wild  growling  of 
a  dog  he  bites  his  own  hands,  tears  his  surplice,  scat- 
ters the  benches  in  disorder.  Soon  he  becomes  weary 
and  exhausted,  breathing  heavily.  He  looks  around, 
approaches  tl  e  altar  and  sinks  to  his  knees  before  the 
wool-god.)  Dear  god!  Good  god!  Sweet  god! 

DOCTOR  (accompanied  by  several  servants,  steals 
cautiously  into  the  room). 

CURTAIN 


A  DOLLAR 
A  Comedy 


PERSONS 

The  Characters  are  given  in  the  order  of  their  ap- 
pearance. 

THE  COMEDIAN 

THE  VILLAIN 

THE  TRAGEDIAN 

ACTOR  who  plays  "  OLD  MAN  "  role 

THE  HEROINE 

THE  INGENUE 

ACTRESS  who  plays  "  OLD  WOMAN  "  role 

THE  STRANGER 


A  DOLLAR 

A  cross-roads  at  the  edge  of  a  forest.  One  road  ex- 
tends from  left  to  right;  the  other  crosses  the  first 
diagonally,  disappearing  into  the  forest.  The 
roadside  is  bordered  with  grass.  On  the  right,  at. 
the  crossing,  stands  a  signpost,  to  which  are  nailed 
two  boards  giving  directions  and  distances. 

The  afternoon  of  a  summer  day.  A  troupe  of 
stranded  strolling  players  enters  from  the  left. 
They  are  ragged  and  weary.  THE  COMKDIAN 
walks  first,  holding  a  valise  in  each  hand,  followed 
by  the  VILLAIN  carrying  over  his  arms  two  huge 
bundles  wrapped  in  bed  sheets.  Immediately  be- 
hind these  the  TRAGEDIAN  and  the  "  OLD  MAN  " 
carrying  together  a  large  heavy  trunk. 

COMEDIAN  (stepping  toward  the  signpost,  reading 
the  directions  on  the  boards,  and  explaining  to  the 
approaching  fellow  actors).  That  way  (pointing  to 
right  and  swinging  the  valise  —  to  indicate  the  direc- 
tion) is  thirty  miles.  This  way  (pointing  to  left)  is 
forty-five  —  and  that  way  it  is  thirty-six.  Now 
choose  for  yourself  the  town  that  you'll  never  reach 
today.  The  nearest  way  for  us  is  back  to  where  we 
came  from,  whence  we  were  escorted  with  the  most 
splendid  catcalls  that  ever  crowned  our  histrionic 
successes. 

53 


54  A  DOLLAR 

VILLAIN  (exhausted).  Who  will  lend  me  a  hand  to 
wipe  off  my  perspiration?  It  has  a  nasty  way  of 
streaming  into  my  mouth. 

COMEDIAN.  Stand  on  your  head,  then,  and  let 
your  perspiration  water  a  more  fruitful  soil. 

VILLAIN.  Oh !  (He  drops  his  arms,  the  bundles 
fall  down.  He  then  sinks  down  onto  one  of  them  and 
wipes  off  the  perspiration,  moving  his  hand  wearily 
over  his  face.  The  TRAGEDIAN  and  the  "  OLD  MAN  " 
approach  the  post  and  read  the  signs.) 

TRAGEDIAN  (in  a  deep  dramatic  voice).  It's  hope- 
less !  It's  hopeless!  (He  lets  go  his  end  of  the 
trunk.) 

"  OLD  MAN  "  (lets  go  his  end  of  the  trunk).  Mm. 
Another  stop. 

(TRAGEDIAN  sits  himself  down  on  the  trunk  in  a 
tragico-heroic  pose,  knees  wide  apart,  right  elbow  on 
right  knee,  left  hand  on  left  leg,  head  slightly  bent  to- 
ward the  right.  COMEDIAN  puts  down  the  valises  and 
rolls  a  cigarette.  The  "  OLD  MAN  "  also  sits  down 
upon  the  trunk,  head  sunk  upon  his  breast.) 

VILLAIN.  Thirty  miles  to  the  nearest  town ! 
Thirty  miles ! 

COMEDIAN.  It's  an  outrage  how  far  people  move 
their  towns  away  from  us. 

VILLAIN.  We  won't  strike  a  town  until  the  day 
after  tomorrow. 

COMEDIAN.  Hurrah!  That's  luck  for  you! 
There's  yet  a  day-after-tomorrow  for  us. 

VILLAIN.  And  the  old  women  are  still  far  behind 
us.  Crawling ! 


A  DOLLAR  55 

"  OLD  MAN."  They  want  the  vote  and  they  can't 
even  walk. 

COMEDIAN.  We  won't  give  them  votes,  that's  set- 
tled. Down  with  votes  for  women ! 

VILLAIN.  It  seems  the  Devil  himself  can't  take 
you !  Neither  your  tongue  nor  your  feet  ever  get 
tired.  You  get  on  my  nerves.  Sit  down  and  shut  up 
for  a  moment. 

COMEDIAN.  Me?  Ha  —  ha !  I'm  going  back 
there  to  the  lady  of  my  heart.  I'll  meet  her  and  fetch 
her  hither  in  my  arms.  (He  spits  on  his  hands,  turns 
up  his  sleeves,  and  strides  rapidly  off  towards  the 
left.) 

VILLAIN.     Clown ! 

"  OLD  MAN."  How  can  he  laugh  and  play  his 
pranks  even  now?  We  haven't  a  cent  to  our  souls, 
our  supply  of  food  is  running  low  and  our  shoes  are 
dilapidated. 

TRAGEDIAN  (with  an  outburst).  Stop  it!  No 
reckoning !  The  number  of  our  sins  is  great  and  the 
tale  of  our  misfortunes  is  even  greater.  Holy  Fa- 
ther !  Our  flasks  are  empty ;  I'd  give  what  is  left  of 
our  soles  (display wig  his  ragged  shoes)  for  just  a 
smell  of  whiskey.  (From  the  left  is  heard  the  laugh- 
ter of  a  woman.  Enter  the  COMEDIAN  carrying  in 
his  arms  the  HEROINE,  who  has  her  hands  around  his 
neck  and  holds  a  satchel  in  both  hands  behind  his 
back.) 

COMEDIAN  (letting  his  burden  down  upon  the 
grass).  Sit  down,  my  love,  and  rest  up.  We  go  no 
further  today.  Your  feet,  your  tender  little  feet 


56  A  DOLLAR 

must  ache  you.  How  unhappy  that  makes  me !  At 
the  first  opportunity  I  shall  buy  you  an  automobile. 

HEROINE.  And  in  the  meantime  you  may  carry 
me  oftener. 

COMEDIAN.  The  beast  of  burden  hears  and  obeys. 
(Enter  the  INGENUE  and  the  "  OLD  WOMAN  "  each 
carrying  a  small  satchel.) 

INGENUE  (weary  and  pouting).  Ah!  No  one 
carried  me.  (She  sits  on  the  grass  to  the  right  of 
the  HEROINE.) 

VILLAIN.     We  have  only  one  ass  with  u(s. 

COMEDIAN  (stretches  himself  out  at  the  feet  of  the 
HEROINE  and  emits  the  bray  of  a  donkey.  "  OLD 
WOMAN  "  sits  down  on  the  grass  to  the  left  of  the 
HEROINE.) 

"  OLD  WOMAN."  And  are  we  to  pass  the  night 
here  ? 

"OLD  MAN."  No,  we  shall  stop  at  "Hotel 
Neverwas." 

COMEDIAN.  Don't  you  like  our  night's  lodgings? 
(Turning  over  toward  the  "  OLD  WOMAN  ".)  See, 
the  bed  is  broad  and  wide,  and  certainly  without  ver- 
min. Just  feel  the  high  grass.  Such  a  soft  bed  you 
never  slept  in.  And  you  shall  have  a  cover  em- 
broidered with  the  moon  and  stars,  a  cover  such  as  no 
royal  bride  ever  possessed. 

"  OLD  WOMAN."  You're  laughing,  and  I  feel  like 
crying. 

COMEDIAN.  Crying?  You  should  be  ashamed  of 
the  sun  which  favors  you  with  its'  setting  splendor. 
Look,  and  be  inspired ! 


A  DOLLAR  57 

VILLAIN.     Yes,  look  and  expire. 

COMEDIAN.     Look,  and  shout  with  ecstasy! 

"  OLD  MAN."     Look,  and  burst ! 

INGENUE  (starts  sobbing.  TRAGEDIAN  laughs 
heavily). 

COMEDIAN  (turning  over  to  the  INGENUE).  What. 
You  are  crying?  Aren't  you  ashamed  of  yourself? 

INGENUE.     I'm  sad. 

"  OLD  WOMAN  "  (sniffling).  I  can't  stand  it  any 
longer. 

HEROINE.  Stop  it !  Or  I'll  start  bawling,  too. 
(COMEDIAN  springs  to  his  knees  and  looks  quickly 
from  one  woman  to  the  other.) 

VILLAIN.     Ha  —  ha  1     Cheer  them  up,  Clown ! 

COMEDIAN  (jumps  up  abruptly  without  the  aid  of 
his  hands).  Ladies  and  Gentlemen,  I  have  it!  (In 
a  measured  and  singing  voice.)  Ladies  and  Gentle- 
men, I  have  it! 

HEROINE.     What  have  you? 

COMEDIAN.     Cheerfulness. 

VILLAIN.     Go  bury  yourself,  Clown. 

TRAGEDIAN  (as  before).     Ho-Ho-Ho. 

"  OLD  MAN."  P-o-o-h !  ( The  women  weep  all 
the  louder.) 

COMEDIAN.  I  have a  bottle  of  whiskey ! 

(General  commotion.  The  women  stop  crying  and 
look  up  to  the  COMEDIAN  in  amazement;  the  TRA- 
GEDIAN straightens  himself  out  and  casts  a  surprised 
look  at  the  COMEDIAN  ;  the  "  OLD  MAN  ",  rubbing  his 
hands,  jumps  to  his  feet;  the  VILLAJN  looks  sus- 
piciously at  the  COMEDIAN.) 


58  A  DOLLAR 

TRAGEDIAN.     A  bottle  of  whiskey? 

"OLD  MAN."  He  — He— He  — A  bottle  of 
whiskey. 

VILLAIN.     Hum  —  whiskey. 

COMEDIAN.  You  bet !  A  bottle  of  whiskey,  hid- 
den and  preserved  for  such  moments  as  this,  a  mo- 
ment of  masculine  depression  and  feminine  tears. 
(Taking  the  flask  from  his  hip  pocket.  The  expres- 
sion on  the  faces  of  all  changes  from  hope  to  disap- 
pointment. ) 

VILLAIN.     You  call  that  a  bottle.     I  call  it  a  flask. 

TRAGEDIAN  (explosively).     A  thimble! 

"  OLD  MAN."     A  dropper ! 

"  OLD  WOMAN."     For  seven  of  us  1     Oh ! 

COMEDIAN  (letting  the  flask  sparkle  in  the  sun). 
But  it's  whiskey,  my  children.  (Opening  the  flask 
and  smelling  it. )  U-u-u-m !  That's  whiskey  for 
you.  The  saloonkeeper  from  whom  I  hooked  it  will 
become  a  teetotaler  from  sheer  despair.  (TRAGE- 
DIAN rising  heavily  and  slowly  proceeding  towards  the 
flask.  VILLAIN  still  skeptical  and  rising  as  if  unwill- 
ing. The  "  OLD  MAN  "  chuckling  and  rubbing  his 
hands.  The  "  OLD  WOMAN  "  getting  up  indiffer- 
ently and  moving  apathetically  toward  the  flask. 
The  HEROINE  and  INGENUE  hold  each  other  by  the 
hand  and  take  ballet  steps  in  waltz  time.  All  ap- 
proach the  COMEDIAN  with  necks  eagerly  stretched 
out  and  smell  the  flask,  which  the  COMEDIAN  holds 
firmly  in  both  hands.) 

TRAGEDIAN.     Ho-Ho-Ho  —  Fine ! 


A  DOLLAR  59 

"OLD  MAN."  He  —  He  —  Small  quantity,  but 
excellent  quality ! 

VILLAIN.     Seems  to  be  good  whiskey. 

HEROINE  (dancing  and  singing).  My  Comedian, 
My  Comedian.  His  head  is  in  the  right  place.  But 
why  didn't  you  nab  a  larger  bottle? 

COMEDIAN.  Oh  Beloved  One,  I  had  to  take  in  con- 
sideration both  the  quality  of  the  whiskey  and  the 
size  of  my  pocket. 

"  OLD  WOMAN."  If  only  there's  enough  of  it  to 
go  round. 

INGENUE.     Oh,  I'm  feeling  sad  again. 

COMEDIAN.  Cheer  up,  there  will  be  enough  for  us 
all.  Cheer  up.  Here,  smell  it  again.  (They  smell 
again  and  cheerfulness  reappears.  They  join  hands 
and  dance  and  sing,  forming  a  circle,  the  COMEDIAN 
applauding.) 

COMEDIAN.  Good !  If  you  are  so  cheered  after  a 
mere  smell  of  it,  what  won't  you  feel  like  after  a  drink. 
Wait,  I'll  join  you.  (He  hides  the  whiskey  flask  in 
his  pocket.)  I'll  show  you  a  new  roundel  which  we 
will  perform  in  our  next  presentation  of  Hamlet,  to 
the  great  edification  of  our  esteemed  audience. 
(Kicking  the  VILLAIN'S  bundles  out  of  the  way.) 
The  place  is  clear,  now  for  dance  and  play.  Join 
hands  and  form  a  circle,  but  you,  Villain,  stay  on  the 
outside  of  it.  You  are  to  try  to  get  in  and  we  dance 
and  are  not  to  let  you  in,  without  getting  out  of  step. 
Understand?  Now  then!  (The  circle  is  formed  in 


60  A  DOLLAR 

the  following  order,   COMEDIAN,   HEROINE,   TRAGE- 
DIAN, "  OiD  WOMAN,"  "  OLD  MAN,"  INGENUE.) 
COMEDIAN  (singing}  : 

To  be  or  not  to  be,  that  is  the  question, 
That  is  the  question,  that  is  the  question. 

He  who  would  enter  in, 
Climb  he  must  over  us, 

If  over  he  cannot, 

He  must  get  under  us. 

REFRAIN 

Tra-la-la,  tra-la-la, 

Over  us,  under  us. 
Tra-la-la,  tra-la-la, 

Under  us,  over  us. 
Now  we  are  jolly,  jolly  are  we. 

(The  COMEDIAN  sings  the  refrain  alone  at  first  and 
the  others  repeat  it  together  with  him.) 
COMEDIAN. 

To  be  or  not  to  be,  that  is  the  question, 
That  is  the  question,  that  is  the  question. 

In  life  to  win  success, 

Elbow  your  way  through, 

Jostle  the  next  one, 

Else  you  will  be  jostled. 

REFRAIN 

(Same  as  before) 


A  DOLLAR  61 

(On  the  last  word  of  the  refrain  they  stop  as  if 
dumbfounded,  and  stand  transfixed,  with  eyes  di- 
rected on  one  spot  inside  of  the  ring.  The  VILLAIN 
leans  over  the  arms  of  the  COMEDIAN  and  the  HERO- 
INE ;  gradually  the  circle  draws  closer  till  their  heads 
almost  touch.  They  attempt  to  free  their  hands  but 
each  holds  on  to  the  other  and  all  seven  whisper  in 
great  astonishment.) 

ALL.     A  dollar ! 

(The  circle  opens  up  agam,  they  look  each  at  the 
other  and  shout  in  wonder.) 

ALL.     A  dollar ! 

(Once  more  they  close  in  and  the  struggle  to  free 
their  hands  grows  wilder;  the  VILLAIN  tries  to  climb 
over  and  then  under  the  hands  into  the  circle  and 
stretches  out  his  hand  toward  the  dollar,  but  instinc- 
tively he  is  stopped  by  the  couple  he  tries  to  pass  be- 
tween, even  when  he  is  not  seen  but  only  felt.  Again 
all  lean  their  heads  over  the  dollar,  quite  lost  in  the 
contemplation  of  it,  and  whispering,  enraptured.) 

ALL.     A  dollar ! 

(Separating  once  again  they  look  at  each  other 
with  exultation  and  at  the  same  time  try  to  free  their 
hands,  once  more  exclaiming  in  ecstasy.) 

ALL.     A  dollar ! 

(Then  the  struggle  to  get  free  grows  wilder  and 
wilder.  The  hand  that  is  perchance  freed  is  quickly 
grasped  again  by  the  one  who  held  it.) 

INGENUE  (in  pain).  Oh,  my  hands,  my  hands! 
You'll  break  them.  Let  go  of  my  hands ! 

"  OLD  WOMAN."     If  you  don't  let  go  of  my  hands 


62  A  DOLLAR 

I'll  bite.  (Attempting  to  bite  the  hands  of  the 
TRAGEDIAN  and  the  "  OLD  MAN  ",  while  they  try  to 
prevent  it.) 

"  OLD  MAN  "  ( trying  to  free  his  hands  from  the 
hold  of  the  HEROINE  and  the  "  OLD  WOMAN  ").  Let 
go  of  me.  (Pulling  at  both  his  hands.)  These 
women's  hands  that  —  seem  so  frail,  just  look  at  them 
now. 

HEROINE  (to  COMEDIAN).  But  you  let  go  my 
hands. 

COMEDIAN.  I  think  it's  you  who  are  holding  fast 
to  mine. 

HEROINE.  Why  should  I  be  holding  you?  If  you 
pick  up  the  dollar,  what  is  yours  is  mine,  you  know. 

COMEDIAN.  Then  let  go  of  my  hand  and  I'll  pick 
it  up. 

HEROINE.     No,  I'd  rather  pick  it  up  myself. 

COMEDIAN.  I  expected  something  like  that  from 
you. 

HEROINE  (angrily).  Let  go  of  my  hands,  that's 
all. 

COMEDIAN.  Ha-Ha-Ha  —  It's  a  huge  joke.  (In 
a  tone  of  command.)  Be  quiet.  (They  become 
still.)  We  must  contemplate  the  dollar  with  reli- 
gious reverence.  (Commotion.)  Keep  quiet,  I  say ! 
—  A  dollar  is  spread  out  before  us.  A  real  dollar 
in  the  midst  of  our  circle,  and  everything  within  us 
draws  us  towards  it,  draws  us  on  irresistibly. —  Be 
quiet !  Remember  you  are  before  the  Ruler,  before 
the  Almighty.  On  your  knees  before  Him  and  pray. 
On  your  knees.  (Sinks  down  on  his  knees  and  drags 


A  DOLLAR  63 

with  him  the  HEROINE  and  INGENUE.  "  OLD  MAN  " 
dropping  on  his  knees  and  dragging  the  "  OLD 
WOMAN  "  with  him.) 

"  OLD  MAN."     He-He-He. 

TRAGEDIAN.     Ho-Ho-Ho,  Clown! 

COMEDIAN  (to  TRAGEDIAN).  You  are  not  worthy 
of  the  serious  mask  you  wear.  You  don't  appreciate 
true  Divine  Majesty.  On  your  knees,  or  you'll  get 
no  whiskey.  (TRAGEDIAN  sinks  heavily  on  his 
knees. )  Oh  holy  dollar,  oh  almighty  ruler  of  the 
universe,  before  thee  we  kneel  in  the  dust  and  send 
toward  thee  our  most  tearful  and  heartfelt  prayers. 
Our  hands  are  bound,  but  our  hearts  strive  toward 
thee  and  our  souls  yearn  for  thee.  Oh  great  king  of 
kings,  thou  who  bringest  together  those  who  are  sepa- 
rated, and  separatest  those  Who  are  near,  thou 
who — (The  VILLAIN,  who  is  standing  aside,  takes  a 
full  jump,  clears  the  INGENUE  and  grasps  the  dollar. 
All  let  go  of  one  another  and  fall  upon  him,  shouting, 
screaming,  pushing  and  fighting.  Finally  the  VIL- 
LAIN manages  to  free  himself,  holding  the  dollar  in 
his  right  fist.  The  others  follow  him  with  clenched 
fists,  glaring  eyes  and  foaming  mouths,  wildly  shout- 
ing.) 

ALL.  The  dollar!  The  dollar!  The  dollar! 
Return  the  dollar! 

VILLAIN  (retreating).  You  can't  take  it  away 
from  me,  it's  mine.  It  was  lying  under  my  bundle. 

ALL.     Give  up  the  dollar !     Give  up  the  dollar. 

VILLAIN  (in  great  rage).  No,  No.  (A  moment 
during  which  the  opposing  sides  look  at  each  other  in 


64  A  DOLLAR 

hatred.     Quietly  but  with  malice.)     Moreover,  whom 
should  I  give  it  to  ?     To  you  —  you  —  you  —  you  ? 

COMEDIAN.  Ha-ha-ha-ha.  He  is  right,  the  dollar 
is  his.  He  has  it,  therefore  it  is  his.  Ha-ha-ha-ha, 
•and  I  wanted  to  crawl  on  my  knees  toward  the  dollar 
and  pick  it  up  with  my  teeth.  Ha-ha-ha-ha,  but  he 
got  ahead  of  me,  Ha-ha-ha-ha. 

HEROINE  (whispering  in  rage).  That's  because 
you  would  not  let  go  of  me. 

COMEDIAN.     Ha-ha-ha-ha. 

TRAGEDIAN  (shaking  his  fist  m  the  face  of  the 
VILLAIN).  Heaven  and  hell,  I  feel  like  crushing  you  ! 
(He  steps  aside  toward  the  trunk  and  sits  down  in  his 
former  pose.  INGENUE,  lying  down  on  the  grass, 
starts  to  cry.) 

COMEDIAN.  Ha-ha-ha.  Now  we  will  drink,  and 
the  first  drink  is  the  Villain's.  (His  proposition  is 
accepted  in  gloom;  the  INGENUE,  however,  stops  cry- 
ing; the  "  OLD  MAN  "  and  the  "  OLD  WOMAN  "  have 
been  standing  by  the  VILLAIN  looking  at  the  dollar  in 
his  hand  as  if  waiting  for  the  proper  moment  to 
snatch  it  from  him.  Finally  the  "  OLD  WOMAN  " 
makes  a  contemptuous  gesture  and  both  turn  aside 
from  the  VILLAIN.  The  latter,  left  in  peace,  smooths 
out  the  dollar,  with  a  serious  expression  on  his 
face.  The  COMEDIAN  hands  him  a  small  glass  of 
whiskey. ) 

COMEDIAN.  Drink,  lucky  one.  (The  VILLAIN, 
shutting  the  dollar  in  his  fist,  takes  the  whiskey  glass 
gravely  and  quickly  drinks  the  contents,  returning 
the  glass.  He  then  starts  to  smooth  and  caress  the 


A  DOLLAR  6& 

dollar  ogam.  The  COMEDIAN,  sttti  laughing,  passes 
the  whiskey  glass  from  one  to  the  other  of  the  com- 
pany, who  drink  sullenly.  The  whiskey  fails  to  cheer 
them.  After  drinking,  the  INGENUE  begins  to  sob 
again.  The  HEROINE  who  is  served  last  throws  the 
empty  whiskey  glass  towards  the  COMEDIAN.) 

COMEDIAN.  Good  shot.  Now  I'll  drink  up  all 
that's  left  in  the  bottle.  (He  puts  the  flask  to  his 
lips  and  drinks.  The  HEROINE  tries  to  knock  it  away 
from  him  but  he  skillfully  evades  her.  The  VILLAIN 
continues  to  smooth  and  caress  the  dollar.) 

VILLAIN.     Ha-ha-ha  .  .  .  (Singing  and  dancing.) 

He  who  would  enter  in, 
Jump  he  must  over  us. 

Ho-ho-ho.  Oh  Holy  dollar !  Oh  Almighty  Ruler 
of  the  World !  ...  Oh  King  of  Kings !  Ha-ha-ha. 
.  .  .  Don't  you  all  think  if  I  have  the  dollar  and  you 
have  it  not  that  I  partake  a  bit  of  its  majesty? 
That  means  that  I  am  now  a  part  of  its  majesty. 
That  means  that  I  am  the  Almighty  dollar's  plenipo- 
tentiary and  therefore  I  am  the  Almighty  Ruler  him- 
self. On  your  knees  before  me !  .  .  .  He-he-he.  .  .  . 

COMEDIAN  (after  throwing  away  the  empty  flask 
lies  down  on  the  grass).  Well  roared,  lion,  but  you 
forgot  to  hide  your  jackass's  ears. 

VILLAIN.  It  is  one's  consciousness  of  power. 
He-he-he.  I  know  and  you  know  that  if  I  have  the 
money,  I  have  the  say.  Remember,  none  of  you  has 
a  cent  to  his  name.  The  whiskey  is  gone.  (Picking 
up  the  flask  and  examining  it.) 


66  A  DOLLAR 

COMEDIAN.  I  did  my  job  well.  Drank  it  to  the 
last  drop. 

VILLAIN.  Yes,  to  the  last  drop.  This  evening 
you  shall  have  bread  and  sausage.  Very  small  por- 
tions too,  for  tomorrow  is  another  day.  (INGENUE 
sobbing  more  frequently).  Not  till  the  day  after 
tomorrow  shall  we  reach  town  and  that  doesn't  mean 
that  you  .get  anything  to  eat  there  either,  but  I  —  I 
—  I  —  he-he-he.  Oh  holy  dollar,  almighty  dollar. 
(Gravely.)  He  who  does  my  bidding  shall  not  be 
without  food. 

COMEDIAN  (with  wide  open  eyes).  What?  Ha- 
ha-ha.  (INGENUE  gets  up  and  throws  herself  on  the 
VILLAIN'S  bosom.) 

INGENUE.     Oh  my  dear  beloved  one. 

VILLAIN.  Ha-ha,  my  power  already  makes  itself 
felt. 

HEROINE  (pushing  the  INGENUE  away).  Let  go  of 
him,  you.  He  sought  my  love  for  a  long  time  and 
now  he  shall  have  it. 

COMEDIAN.     What?     You! 

HEROINE  (to  COMEDIAN).  I  hate  you,  traitor. 
(To  the  VILLAIN.)  I  have  always  loved  —  genius. 
You  are  now  the  wisest  of  the  wise.  I  adore  you. 

VILLAIN  (holding  INGENUE  in  one  arm).  Come 
into  my  other  arm.  (HEROINE  throwing  herself  into 
his  arms,  kissing  and  embracing  him.) 

COMEDIAN  (half  rising  on  his  knees).  Stop,  I 
protest.  (Throwing  himself  on  the  grass.)  "  O 
frailty,  thy  name  is  woman." 

"  OLD  WOMAN  "  (approachmg  the  VILLAIN  from 


A  DOLLAR  67 

behind  and  embracing  him).  Find  a  little  spot  on 
your  bosom  for  me.  I  play  the  "  Old  Woman,"  but 
you  know  I'm  not  really  old. 

VILLAIN.     Now  I  have  all  of  power  and  all  of  love. 

COMEDIAN.     Don't  call  it  love.     Call  it  servility. 

VILLAIN  (freeing  himself  from  the  women).  But 
now  I  have  something  more  important  to  carry  out. 
My  vassals  —  I  mean  you  all  —  I  have  decided  we 
will  not  stay  here  over  night.  We  will  proceed  fur- 
ther. 

WOMEN.     How  so? 

VILLAIN.     We  go  forward  tonight. 

COMEDIAN.     You  have  so  decided? 

VILLAIN.  I  have  so  decided,  and  that  in  itself 
should  be  enough  for  you ;  but  due  to  an  old  habit  I 
shall  explain  to  you  why  I  have  so  decided. 

COMEDIAN.  Keep  your  explanation  to  yourself 
and  better  not  disturb  my  contemplation  of  the  sun- 
set. 

VILLAIN.  I'll  put  you  down  on  the  blacklist.  It 
will  go  ill  with  you  for  your  speeches  against  me. 
Now  then,  without  an  explanation,  we  will  go  —  and 
at  once.  (Nobody  stirs.)  Very  well  then,  I  go 
alone. 

WOMEN.     No,  no. 

VILLAIN.     What  do  you  mean? 

INGENUE.     I  go  with  you. 

HEROINE.     And  I. 

"OLD  WOMAN."     And  I. 

VILLAIN.     Your  loyalty  gratifies  me  very  much. 

"  OLD  MAN  "  (who  is  sitting  apathetically  upon 


68  A  DOLLAR 

the  trunk).     What  the  deuce  is  urging  you  to  go? 

VILLAIN.  I  wanted  to  explain  it  to  you,  but  now 
no  more.  I  owe  you  no  explanations.  I  have  de- 
cided —  I  wish  to  go,  and  that  is  sufficient. 

COMEDIAN.  He  plays  his  comedy  wonderfully. 
Would  you  ever  have  suspected  that  there  was  so 
much  wit  in  his  cabbage  head? 

WOMEN  (making  love  to  the  VILLAIN).  Oh  you 
darling. 

TRAGEDIAN  (majestically).  I  wouldn't  give  him 
even  a  single  glance. 

VILLAIN.  Still  another  on  the  blacklist.  I'll  tell 
you  this  much  —  I  have  decided  — 

COMEDIAN.  Ha-ha-ha.  How  long  will  you  keep 
this  up? 

VILLAIN.  We  start  at  once,  but  if  I  am  to  pay  for 
your  food  I  will  not  carry  any  baggage.  You  shall 
divide  my  bundles  among  you  and  of  course  those  who 
are  on  the  blacklist  will  get  the  heaviest  share.  You 
heard  me.  Now  move  on.  I'm  going  now.  We  will 
proceed  to  the  nearest  town  which  is  thirty  miles 
away.  Now  then,  I  am  off. 

COMEDIAN.     Brfn  voyage. 

VILLAIN.  And  with  me  fares  His  Majesty  the 
Dollar  and  your  meals  for  tomorrow. 

WOMEN.     We  are  coming,  we  are  coming. 

"  OLD  MAN."     I'll  go  along. 

TRAGEDIAN  (to  the  VILLAIN).  You're  a  scoundrel 
and  a  mean  fellow. 

VILLAIN.  I  am  no  fellow  of  yours.  I  am  master 
and  breadgiver. 


A  DOLLAR  69 

TRAGEDIAN.     I'll  crush  you  in  a  moment. 

VILLAIN.  What?  You  threaten  me!  Let's  go. 
(Turns  to  right.  The  women  take  their  satchels  and 
follow  him.) 

"OLD  MAN"  (to  the  TRAGEDIAN).  Get  up  and 
take  the  trunk.  We  will  settle  the  score  with  him 
some  other  time.  It  is  he  who  has  the  dollar  now. 

TRAGEDIAN  (rising  and  shaking  his  fist).  I'll 
get  him  yet.  (He  takes  his  side  of  the  trunk.) 

VILLAIN  (to  TRAGEDIAN).  First  put  one  of  my 
bundles  on  your  back. 

TRAGEDIAN  (in  rage).  One  of  your  bundles  on 
my  back? 

VILLAIN.  Oh,  for  all  I  care  you  can  put  it  on 
your  head,  or  between  your  teeth. 

"  OLD  MAN."  We  will  put  the  bundle  on  the 
trunk. 

COMEDIAN  (sitting  up).  Look  here,  are  you  jok- 
ing or  are  you  in  earnest? 

VILLAIN  (contemptuously).     I  never  joke. 

COMEDIAN.     Then  you  are  in  earnest? 

VILLAIN.     I'll  make  no  explanations. 

COMEDIAN.  Do  you  really  think  that  because  you 
have  the  dollar  — 

VILLAIN.  The  holy  dollar,  the  almighty  dollar, 
the  king  of  kings. 

COMEDIAN  (continuing).  That  therefore  you  are 
the  master  — 

VILLAIN.     Bread-giver  and  provider. 

COMEDIAN.     And  that  we  must  — 

VILLAIN.     Do  what  I  bid  you  to. 


70  A  DOLLAR 

COMEDIAN.     So  you  are  in  earnest? 

VILLAIN.  You  just  get  up,  take  the  baggage  and 
follow  me. 

COMEDIAN  (rising).  Then,  I  declare  a  revolu- 
tion. 

VILLAIN.     What?     A  revolution! 

COMEDIAN.     A  bloody  one,  if  need  be. 

TRAGEDIAN  (dropping  his  end  of  the  trunk  and 
advancing  with  a  bellicose  attitude  toward  the  VIL- 
LAIN). And  I  shall  be  the  first  to  let  your  blood,  you 
scoundrel. 

VILLAIN.  If  that's  the  case  I  have  nothing  to  say 
to  you.  Those  who  wish,  come  along. 

COMEDIAN  (getting  in  his  way).  No,  you  shall 
not  go  until  you  give  up  the  dollar. 

VILLAIN.     Ha-ha.     It  is  to  laugh ! 

COMEDIAN.     The  dollar  please,  or  — 

VILLAIN.     He-he-he. 

COMEDIAN.  Then  let  there  be  blood.  (Turns  up 
his  sleeves.) 

TRAGEDIAN  (taking  off  his  coat).  Ah!  Blood, 
blood! 

"  OLD  MAN  "  (dropping  his  end  of  the  trunk). 
I'm  not  going  to  keep  out  of  a  fight. 

WOMEN  (dropping  their  satchels).  Nor  we. 
Nor  we. 

VILLAIN  (shouting).  To  whom  shall  I  give  up  the 
dollar?  You  —  you  —  you  —  you? 

COMEDIAN.  This  argument  will  not  work  any 
more.  You  are  to  give  the  dollar  up  to  all  of  us. 


A  DOLLAR  71 

At  the  first  opportunity  we'll  get  change  and  divide 
it  into  equal  parts. 

WOMEN.     Hurrah,  Hurrah !     Divide  it,  Divide  it. 

COMEDIAN  (to  VILLAIN).  And  I  will  even  be  so 
good  as  to  give  you  a  share. 

TRAGEDIAN.  I'd  rather  give  him  a  sound  thrash- 
ing. 

COMEDIAN.  It  shall  be  as  I  say.  Give  up  thr 
dollar. 

HEROINE  (thrc,K4ng  herself  on  the  COMEDIAN'S 
breast).  Mv  comedjan  }  My  comedian  ! 

IxaEN-E    (to    fjie   Vn^Ajjf).     i»m    sick    of    you. 

()  the  dollar. 

'COMEDIAN  (pushing  the  HEROINE  aside).  You 
better  step  aside  or  else  you  may  get  the  punch  I 
at  the  master  and  breadgiver.  (To  the  VIL- 
LAIN.) Come  up  with  the  dollar! 

TRAGEDIAN.  Give  up  the  dollar  to  him,  do  you 
hear  ? 

ALL.     The  dollar,  the  dollar! 

VILLAIN.     I'll  tear  it  to  pieces. 

COMEDIAN.  Then  we  shall  tear  out  what  little 
hair  you  have  left  on  your  head.  The  dollar,  quick ! 
(They  surround  the  VILLAIN;  the  women  puU  his  hair; 
the  TRAGEDIAN  grabs  him  by  the  collar  and  shakes 
him;  the  "  OLD  MAN  "  strikes  him  on  his  bald  pate; 
the  COMEDIAN  struggles  with  him  and  finally  grasps 
the  dollar. 

COMEDIAN  (holding  up  the  dollar.)  I  have  it! 
(The  women  dance  and  sing.) 


72  A  DOLLAR 

VILLAIN.     Bandits  !     Thieves  ! 
TRAGEDIAN.     Silence,    or    I'll    shut   your   mouth. 
(Goes   back  to   the  trunk  and  assumes  his  heroic 

pose.) 

COMEDIAN  (putting  the  dollar  into  his  pocket). 
That's  what  I  call  a  successful  and  a  bloodless  revolu- 
tion, except  for  a  little  fright  and  heart  palpitation 
on  **  part  of  the  late  master  and  bread  giver.— 
isten,  someone  is  ciiming.  T^aps  he'll  be  able  to 


Listen,  someone  is  ciiming. 

change  the  dollar  and  then  we  can  dlvide  ' 

"  OLD  MAN."     I  am  puzzled  how  we  can  change 
into    equal    parts.      (Starts    to    calculate   a^ 
INGENUE  and  the  "  OLD  WOMAN.") 

HEROINE  (tenderly  attentive  to  the  COMEDIAN). 
You  are  angry  with  me,  but  I  was  only  playing  with 
him  so  as  to  wheedle  the  dollar  out  of  him. 

COMEDIAN.  And  now  you  want  to  trick  me  out  of 
my  share  of  it. 

"  OLD  MAN."  It  is  impossible  to  divide  it  into 
equal  parts.  It  is  absolutely  impossible.  If  it  were 
ninety-eight  cents  or  one-hundred  and  five  cents 
or  — 

(The  STRANGER  enters  -from  the  Right,  perceives 
the  company,  greets  it  and  continues  his  way  to  left. 
COMEDIAN  stops  him.) 

COMEDIAN.  I  beg  your  pardon,  sir;  perhaps  you 
have  change  of  a  dollar  in  dimes,  nickels,  and  pennies. 
(Showing  the  dollar.  The  "  OLD  MAN  "  and  women 
step  forward.) 

STRANGER  (getting  slightly  nervous,  starts  some- 
what, makes  a  quick  movement  for  his  pistol  pocket, 


A  DOLLAR 


looks   at   the   COMEDIAN    and   the  others   and  says 
slowly).     Change  of  a  dollar?     (Moving  from  the 
circle  to  left.)     I  believe  I  have. 
WOMEN.     Hurrah ! 

STRANGER  ( turns  so  that  no  one  is  behind  him  and 
pulls  his  revolver).     Hands  up! 

COMEDIAN  (in  a  gentle  tone  of  voice).     My  dear 
gir,  we  are  altogether  peaceful  folk. 

STRANGER  (takes,  the  dotiar  from' lite  COMEDIAN'S 
hand  and  walk.*^  backwards  to  left  with  the  pistol 
pointed  a'^  the  group.)  Good  night,  everybody. 
(He  ^^appears,  me  actors  remain  dumb  with  fear, 
vj<;th  their  hands  up,  mouths  wide-open  and  staring 
into  space.) 

•COMEDIAN    (finally   breaks    out   into    thunderous 
laughter).     Ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha. 


' 


CURTAIN 


CRIPPLES 
A  Comedy 


PERSONS 

FIRST  CRIPPLE 
SECOND  CRIPPLE 
THE  WORKINGMAN 
THE  SOLDIER 
THE  SEXTON 

TIME  AND  PLACE:     When  and  where  you  please. 


CRIPPLES 

A  city  square;  the  entrance  to  a  large  church.  It  is 
long  before  dawn;  from  the  lantern  over  the  door 
comes  a  pale  light. 

FIRST  CRIPPLE  (a  maimed  arm  and  a  disabled  foot, 
is  huddled  close  to  the  wall,  at  the  right  of  the  church- 
door). 

SECOND  CRIPPLE  (similarly  afflicted,  issues  from 
the  darkness  of  the  square  and  becomes  visible  m  the 
light  from  the  lantern.  He  notices  the  FIRST  CRIP- 
PLE seated  before  the  door  and  is  seized  with  wild 
rage).  In  my  place!  May  flames  devour  his  en- 
trails !  .  .  .  I'll  smash  his  head !  .  .  .  He's  fallen 
asleep,  it  seems.  .  .  .  I'll  soon  send  you  flying  into 
the  gutter!  .  .  .  (About  to  seize  the  FIRST  CRIPPLE 
by  a  leg). 

FIRST  C.  (suddenly  thrusting  him  away  with  his 
foot,  bursts  into  laughter). 

SECOND  C.  (falls  over,  but  at  once  jumps  to  his 
feet,  ready  for  a  fight). 

FIRST  C.  (laughing).  Fooled  you,  didn't  I?  So 
you'll  pull  me  away,  will  you?  And  who  came  first, 
ha?  Who  has  the  best  place?  Whose  hand  will  be 
the  first  to  greet  the  worshippers  when  they  begin  to 
come  out  ?  Are  you  looking  for  stones  ?  Here ;  I've 
got  some  ready.  Ha,  ha,  ha.  .  .  .  And  I've  got  a 

77 


78  CRIPPLES 

cane,    too.  ...  A    heavy    cane;    ha,    ha,    ha.  .  .  . 

SECOND  C.  Leave  that  place  at  once !  I'll  smash 
your  head  for  you,  I  tell  you !  You  louse,  son  of  a 
bedbug!  I'll  show  you  how  to  kick  a  fellow  away! 
.  .  .  Get  out  of  that  place  at  once ! 

FIRST  C.  Really!  Indeed!  I'll  speed  away  im- 
mediately. .  .  .  Ha,  ha,  ha.  .  .  .  No  use!  The 
place  belongs  to  me.  You'll  never  get  it  back.  .  .  . 
After  every  night-service,  who  will  occupy  the  best 
place  before  the  door?  I!  At  every  fair  who  will 
occupy  the  best  place  before  the  door?  I!  Whose 
hand  will  be  stuck  out  before  all  others?  Mine! 
This  very  hand.  And  into  whose  hand  will  the  ring- 
ing coins  be  first  to  fall,  and  most  of  all?  Into  mine ! 
Into  this  very  hand.  Ring,  ring !  .  .  .  "  God  bless 
you."  ..."  God  lengthen  your  years."  ..."  May 
God  break  your  back  for  you  on  the  very  first 
spot."  Ha,  ha,  ha  ! 

SECOND  C.  (almost  choking  with  fury).  I.  ... 
I.  ... 

FIRST  C.  The  best  place.  .  .  .  The  very  first 
seat.  ...  A  private  box.  ...  A  most  excellent  site ! 
It  feels  so  good  to  sit  here.  ...  It  feels  so  good  to 
stand  here.  .  .  .  Such  a  rare  site.  .  .  . 

SECOND  C.  It's  my  place,  I  say!  Away!  It's 
been  my  place  for  years.  .  .  . 

FIRST  C.     Ha,  ha.  ...  A  golden  place.  .  .  . 

SECOND  C.  (jumps  upon  the  FIRST  CRIPPLE.  They 
engage  m  a  struggle  and  roll  down  the  steps  to  the 
sidewalk). 

A  MAN  (only  one  hand,  dressed  in  workingman's 


CRIPPLES  79 

clothes,  appears  suddenly  from  out  of  the  darkness). 
Hey !  Hey  !  What  a  fight ! 

SECOND  C.  (on  top  of  the  FIRST  C.,  and  beating 
him  with  his  good  hand  as  if  intent  upon  killing  him). 
Now  we'll  see  who  takes  the  best  place  before  the 
door !  Now  we'll  see  whose  hand  will  be  the  first  to 
greet  the  worshippers !  .  .  . 

FIRST  C.  You.  .  .  .  You.  .  .  .  Just  let  me  free 
my  hand.  .  .  .  Wait.  .  .  .  Just  let  me.  .  .  . 

THE  WORKINGMAN  (looks  about,  then  hastens  up 
the  stairs  to  the  choice  site  before  the  church  door). 

SECOND  C.  (still  punching  the  FIRST  C.).  You 
will.  .  .  .  Yes.  .  .  .  You  will.  .  .  . 

FIRST  C.  (frees  his  good  arm).  Now  I'll.  .  .  . 
Now.  .  .  .  (Manages  to  throw  the  SECOND  C.  over. 
Both  spring  to  their  feet,  glare  furiously  at  each 
other,  ready  for  another  assault.  At  this  juncture, 
however,  THE  WORKINGMAN  decides  to  smoke  a  ciga- 
rette; the  sudden  light  from  his  match  attracts  the 
attention  of  the  cripples.  They  turn  their  gaze  to- 
ward the  church  door  and  notice  THE  WORKINGMAN 
in  the  coveted  position;  whereupon  they  both  limp  u-p 
the  steps  to  the  church  door.) 

SECOND  C.  Hey !  You  there !  That  isn't  your 
place ! 

W.     Not  my  place?     Whose  is  it,  then? 

SECOND  C.     It's  my  place ! 

FIRST  C.     It's  mine! 

W.     You  don't  say  so! 

SECOND  C.     It's  my  place,  I  tell  you  ! 

W.     Since  I'm  standing  upon  it,  it's  mine. 


80  CRIPPLES 

SECOND  C.  You've  no  right  to  be  standing  on  it. 
I  was  standing  on  it.  I've  been  standing  on  it  stead- 
ily, do  you  understand?  For  years  and  years.  It's 
my  place ! 

FIRST  C.  It's  mine !  I  sat  on  it  all  night  long. 
I  guarded  it  like  a  dog.  I  didn't  leave  it  for  a  mo- 
ment. All  night  long.  It's  my  place.  Better  leave 
it  without  making  any  trouble. 

W.     So  !     That's  how  it  stands ! 

SECOND  C.  Better  clear  out  before  you  get  into 
trouble ! 

W.  Ha,  ha!  (Places  his  hand  upon  the  face  of 
the  SECOND  C.  and  thrusts  him  away.)  Off  with  you, 
carrion-face ! 

SECOND  C.  (falls.  As  he  gets  up  he  looks  about 
for  some  stones.  He  is  wild  with  anger). 

FIRST  C.  (hunts  likewise  for  missiles). 

W.  I've  a  whole  heap  of  stones  right  here.  Right 
at  my  feet.  You  must  have  had  them  ready. 
Thanks.  And  I  see  a  nice  heavy  cane  here,  too. 
(Grasping  the  cane.)  Not  a  bad  cane  at  all.  A 
genuine  cudgel.  Off,  you  bandits ! 

SECOND  C.  (retreating).  It's  my  place!  It's  my 
place ! 

W.  Your  place  is  in  hell.  In  the  demon's  palace 
on  the  devil's  tail ;  that's  where  your  place  is ! 

FIRST  C.  I  lay  here  all  night.  What  do  you 
mean  by  seizing  it  from  me?  May  a  three-story 
bellyache  seize  you!  Who  are  you,  anyway? 
You're  no  beggar !  You're  a  thief, —  that's  what 
you  are!  A  cut-throat!  A  pickpocket!  You've 


CRIPPLES  81 

come  to  pickpocket  the  churchgoers !  I'm  going  to 
call  a  policeman !  .  .  .  Thief !  Thief !  .  .  . 

W.  I'll  crush  that  pate  of  yours  and  twist  your 
other  leg  for  you !  I'll  teach  you  to  cry  "  Thief !  " 
I  am  a  workingman  !  .  .  .  Do  you  understand  !  I've 
been  a  workingman  all  my  life.  .  .  .  That's  what  I 
was !  .  .  .  Lost  my  arm  at  my  work.  ...  So  it  was 
all  up.  .  .  .  No  more  work.  ...  So  I  must  beg. 
.  .  .  You  must  show  respect  for  me !  Understand ! 
Respect !  Away  from  this  place !  I've  more  right  to 
it,  understand.  I've  the  right  to  the  very  first  po- 
sition. Off  with  you,  eyesores !  Beggars! 

SECOND  C.  (gasping  wildly,  at  -first  at  a  loss  for 
words,  and  finally  foaming  at  the  mouth,  explosively). 
Did  you  .  .  .  did  .  .  .  did  you  ever  hear  such  claims 
to  respect !  You  botch-toiler,  son  of  a  peasant,  how 
dare  you  approach  us?  How  dare  you  class  your- 
self in  our  company  ?  We  are  born  cripples,  I'll  have 
you  know.  Cripples  from  our  mother's  womb,  God- 
given  cripples,  cripples  by  the  grace  of  God!  We 
were  cripples  even  when  we  were  in  the  lap  of  the 
Lord.  .  .  .  We  are  chosen  cripples ! 

FIRST  C.  You've  been  crippled  because  you  were 
probably  drunk  at  work.  .  .  .  Better  leave  before 
you  have  to ! 

SECOND  C.  Better  leave,  we  say,  before  we  make 
you! 

A  SOLDIER  (entering  from  the  darkness,  and  is- 
suing commands  in  the  voice  of  an  officer).  Halt! 
Attention !  Right  shoulder,  forward,  march !  (  The 
three  wranglers  stare  at  him.)  Away  from  the  place, 


82  CRIPPLES 

all  three  of  you!  At  once,  I  say!  (Making  out  a 
uniform  in  the  scant  light,  the  three  are  intimidated 
and  withdraw  from  the  place.  THE  SOLDIER  now 
takes  possession  of  the  disputed  site.)  That's  the 
way.  It's  a  good  thing  you  show  me  proper  defer- 
ence. I  lost  an  eye  in  the  war, —  an  ear, —  lost  three 
fingers, —  was  wounded  in  the  shoulder ;  got  a  hole 
in  my  side  and  a  medal  on  my  breast.  Killed  thirteen 
of  the  enemy.  Rescued  our  flag  from  them.  Got  a 
medal.  The  general  himself  pinned  it  on  me,  and 
shook  hands  with  me.  But  it's  a  poor  soldier  you 
make  with  only  a  single  eye,  so  I  took  to  begging. 
And  the  place  before  the  door  belongs  to  me.  The 
very  first  place.  If  you  understand  me,  then  so 
much  the  better  for  you.  If  not,  I  would  have  to 
show  you  how  the  enemy  monkeys  executed  their  rab- 
bits' dash  before  me.  Ha,  ha,  ha !  .  .  .  (Lights  a 
pipe.) 

FIRST  C.     The  devil !     It's  only  another  beggar  ! 

SECOND  C.  I  thought  it  was  a  policeman !  The 
devil  take  him ! 

W.  Here,  you,  Mr.  Hero;  the  place  is  not  yours. 
I  was  standing  there. 

SOLDIER.  Would  you  like  to  try  and  recapture 
it,  perhaps? 

W.     You  just  bet! 

SOLDIER.  You  boor !  You  bumpkin !  I  was  a 
standard-bearer,  and  an  entire  company  of  enemy 
monkeys,  each  one  stronger  than  you,  was  unable 
to  wrest  the  flag  from  me !  Do  you  wish  to  see  how 
well  I  can  wield  this  cane, —  as  if  it  were  a  trusty 


CRIPPLES  83 

sword?  (Issues  commands  to  himself.)  Fix  bayo- 
nets! Charge!  (Places  his  cane  as  if  it  were  a 
bayonet.)  Retreat,  you  band  of  beggars  I  I'll  stick 
my  bayonet  through  your  belly-buttons,  and  string 
you  up  as  on  a  pitchfork,  where  all  the  crows  and 
hounds  may  devour  you.  Off  with  you,  pack  of 
womb-bred  cripples ! 

W.  You  can  tell  that  to  them !  Not  to  me.  I'm 
just  as  good  as  you  are,  any  day.  And  even  better. 
I  lost  my  hand  in  toil.  I  worked  all  my  life  long. 
Worked  since  childhood.  So  that  you  might  go 
about  in  idleness.  You  loafer  !  I  was  maimed  at  my 
work.  And  the  place  at  the  door  of  the  church  be- 
longs to  me ! 

SOLDIER.  Ha,  ha !  I'll  yield  it  to  you  on  the  in- 
stant. .  .  .  Ha,  ha,  ha.  .  .  .  But  let  me  tell  you  this 
much :  You  say  that  you  worked  for  me.  Well,  do 
you  know  what?  Then  now  you  can  beg  for  me. 
All  three  of  you  can.  I'll  permit  you  to.  You 
should  be  honored  with  the  task:  you'll  be  begging 
for  a  hero !  .  .  .  Ha,  ha,  ha.  .  .  .  But  I  wouldn't 
trust  you.  You're  all  a  band  of  thieves.  Sticky 
fingers.  Attention!  Salute!  And  be  honored  by 
my  permission  to  stand  within  three  feet  of  me. 

W.  You  good-for-nothing,  you !  You  worthless 
wretch !  You  hero  in  drawers  !  That  place  belongs 
to  me,  I  tell  you.  I  was  standing  there  when  the 
devil  brought  you  here. 

FIRST  C.  And  I  was  standing  there  before  him. 
I  lay  there  all  night  long. 


84  CRIPPLES 

SECOND  C.  And  I've  been  there  for  years.  The 
place  belongs  to  me ! 

THE  SEXTON  (appearing  at  the  door).  What's 
the  trouble  about?  Why  all  this  shouting?  You 
are  disturbing  the  worshippers !  You  are  disturbing 
the  service! 

SECOND  C.  (excited,  clutching  at  THE  SEXTON  and 
speaking  to  him  in  the  third  person).  It's  a  good 
thing  that  he  appears  at  this  moment !  Now  the  mat- 
ter will  be  settled.  He,  he  will.  .  .  .  Let  him  say 
whom  he  always  sees  in  this  place  at  every  fair  and 
on  every  holiday?  Have  I  not  been  standing  here 
for  years  and  years?  Does  he  recall,  when  he  was 
appointed  sexton,  that  I  was  the  first  to  congratulate 
him  and  to  wish  him  long  years  and  good  health  and 
many  weddings  and  many  burials?  Does  he  recall? 
For  years  and  years.  .  .  . 

FIRST  C.  (seizing  THE  SEXTON'S  coat  and  talking 
close  to  his  face) .  But  whom  did  he  see  in  this  place 
to-night  at  nightfall,  before  the  first  worshipper  ap- 
peared ?  Whom  did  he  see  huddled  together  here  like 
a  dog?  But  like  a  dog  they  drove  me  away. 

W.  Mr.  Sexton,  I  was  a  toiler,  and  worked  hard 
all  my  life;  I  lost  my  arm  at  work.  It  was  caught 
in  the  machinery  and  severed.  I  was*sober,  just  as 
truly  as  you  see  me  now.  I  didn't  take  a  drop  that 
day.  But  I  was  tired,  weary  with  hard  toil.  My 
hands  could  barely  move.  And  my  left  arm, —  ay, 
ay !  —  Caught  in  the  wheels.  .  .  .  Torn  to  shreds. 
Had  to  have  it  amputated.  And  now  I  must  beg. — 
I've  a  wife  and  children.  Isn't  the  best  place  near 


CRIPPLES  85 

the  door  mine,  by  right?  I  was  already  standing 
there,  when  along  came  — 

SOLDIER  (raising  his  hand  to  his  hat).  A  soldier 
of  the  fourth  company  of  the  eighteenth  regiment. — 
Killed  thirteen  of  the  enemy  rats ;  saved  our  flag.  I 
bear  eight  wounds  and  a  medal.  Then  doesn't  the 
beggar's  spot  belong  to  me?  Why,  they  themselves 
yielded  it  to  me. 

FIRST  C.,  SECOND  C.,  W.  That's  a  lie !  That's  a 
lie! 

SOLDIER.     I  simply  issued  the  order  — 

THE  SEXTON.  Hush-sh-sh !  .  .  .  Don't  shout !  — 
Let  me  first  know  why  you  should  all  be  disputing  for 
that  particular  spot,  when  it  makes  no  difference 
where  you  stand? 

FIRST  C.  What  do  you  mean !  It's  really  the 
best  place!  It  is.  ...  It  is.  ...  (In  a  pious  man- 
ner.) It  is  close  to  the  churchdoor,  so  that  it's 
easier  to  hear  God's  word,  and  a  fellow  can  catch  a 
prayer  or  two.  .  .  . 

SECOND  C.  He's  lying.  He's  a  hypocrite.  That 
place  brings  in  twice,  thrice  the  amount  any  other 
place  does,  and  I  don't  know  how  much  more. 

W.  Mr.  Sexton,  can't  you  see  that  the  place  must 
go  to  me? 

SOLDIER.  Your  grace,  the  place  belongs  to  a 
medal  and  the  man  that  wears  the  medal. 

SEXTON.  Wait  a  moment,  now.  .  .  .  Wait.  .  .  . 
I  wasn't  at  all  aware  that  a  gold-mine  was  situated 
right  at  the  church-door. 

SECOND  C.     And  I  discovered  it. 


86  CRIPPLES 

FIRST  C.  And  I  like  to  hold  my  ear  close  to  the 
door.  I  lay  there  all  night  long. 

W.  Mr.  Sexton,  one  who  has  toiled  as  hard  as  I, 
deserves  a  reward. 

SOLDIER.  Your  Highness,  the  hero  is  the  right 
man  in  the  right  place. 

THE  SEXTON.     None  of  you  will  get  it. 

THE  DISPUTANTS.     How  ?  —  What  ?  —  Ha  ?  — 

THE  SEXTON.  That  is  to  'say,  none  of  you  will 
get  it  for  nothing.  From  this  day  forward  the  place 
will  be  rented. 

THE  DISPUTANTS  (thunderstruck).     Rented! 

SEXTON.  Yes.  Whoever  offers  the  highest  bid 
will  be  given  the  place.  How  will  you  rent  it :  by  the 
year,  or  per  day  ?  I  believe  that  by  the  year  is  best. 
That'll  mean  less  dealing  with  you.  How  much  am 
I  offered  per  year?  : —  Quick,  now !  Quick !  —  How 
much?  .  .  , 


CURTAIN" 


THE  INVENTOR  AND  THE  KING'S 
DAUGHTER 


PERSONS 

THE  INVENTOR. 

THE  KING. 

His  DAUGHTER. 

THE  PRINCE,  HER  BETROTHED. 

THE  COURT  JESTER. 

THE  CHANCELLOR. 

TREASURER. 

A  SERVANT. 

A  LAME  COURTIER. 

A  BLIND  COURTIER. 

A  FATHER  OF  DEAF  AND  DUMB  CHILDREN. 

A  LOVELORN  SUITOR. 

AN  OLD  MAN. 

AN  OLD  LADY. 

COURTIERS,  DAMES,  SERVANTS. 


THE  INVENTOR  AND  THE  KING'S 
DAUGHTER 

"  Once  upon  a  time  there  was  .  .  ." 

In  the  large  hall  of  the  palace  the  KING  is  celebrating 
the  betrothal  of  his  daughter  to  the  PRINCE. 
Around  long  tables,  placed  in  the  shape  of  a  square 
with  the  front  side  removed,  sit  the  guests  —  ladies 
and  gentlemen  —  eating  and  drinking  in  unre- 
strained mirth  and  with  loud  laughter,  particularly 
at  the  antics  of  the  JESTER.  At  the  head  of  the 
centre  table  sits  the  KING  ;  at  his  right  and  left,  re- 
spectively, his  daughter  and  the  PRINCE;  next  to 
the  PRINCESS  sits  the  CHANCELLOR  ;  next  to  the 
PRINCE,  the  TREASURER.  In  the  middle  of  the 
open  space  between  the  tables,  upon  a  small  chair 
facing  a  diminutive  table,  lolls  the  JESTER,  a  very 
ugly,  hunch-backed  creature.  From  various  direc- 
tions morsels  of  food  are  thrown  to  him;  wine,  too, 
is  poured  to  him  from  afar,  and  he  catches  it  skil- 
futty  in  his  mouth  as  it  flies  through  the  air. 

THE  JESTER.  Lo,  man  can  do  what  is  denied  a 
dog.  A  dog  may  catch  merely  a  morsel,  yet  I  can 
catch  even  drink.  And  I  am  but  a  fool.  What 
canine  tricks  could  not  a  king  be  taught!  (The 

guests  dare  not  laugh,  and  make  sober  grimaces.) 

89 


90        THE  INVENTOR  AND  THE  KING'S  DAUGHTER 

THE  KING.  For  that  jest  you  get  fifty  with  the 
lash. 

JESTER.  I  simply  wished  to  prove  to  you  how 
much  higher  is  the  least  intelligent  of  mortals  than 
the  cleverest  of  dogs.  For  man  can  bite  even  without 
teeth. 

KING.  If  your  teeth  are  superfluous,  I'll  have 
them  pulled  out  for  you. 

JESTER.  And  it  were  well  if  you  did  so.  For  if 
you  have  them  extracted,  you  do  me  a  great  favor. 
They  are  so  ugly,  that  often  I  wish  my  hump  were 
over  my  mouth.  But  you  will  not  do  it.  Of  what 
use  is  your  jester  to  you  with  one  ugly  feature  less? 

KING.     Eat,  and  close  your  mouth ! 

JESTER.  Silence  is  the  virtue  of  the  wise.  Where- 
fore I  must  speak,  that  I  may  be  held  a  fool.  And 
you  must  keep  silent,  that  you  may  be  held  a  sage. 
Woe  to  me  if  I  kept  silent.  Woe  to  you  if  you  spoke 
overmuch. 

KING  (throwing  a  bone  to  him).  Catch  this,  and 
may  you  choke. 

JESTER.  Behold!  The  King  is  left  without  a 
sceptre.  The  fool  wields  it  now,  and  now  the  fool  is 
king. 

KING.  You're  drunk,  you  dog!  You're  talking 
too  much,  and  spoiling  our  festivities.  Throw  him 
under  the  table  and  see  that  he  utters  not  a  word. 

Two  SERVANTS  (fall  upon  the  JESTER  and  throw 
him  under  a  table). 

JESTER  (barks  like  a  dog). 

KING.     Silence,  there!  » 


THE  INVENTOR  AND  THE  KING'S  DAUGHTER        91 

JESTER.  I  am  ordered  to  utter  not  a  word. 
Wherefore  I  express  myself  wordlessly. 

KING  (to  SERVANTS).     Gag  his  mouth  1 

SERVANTS  (bend  over  the  fool  and  gag  him). 

KING.  Now  we  shall  have  peace,  and  others  may 
be  able  to  speak. 

JESTER  (through  his  gag).  You  would  not  gain 
by  it! 

KING.  The  fool  has  made  us  forget  our  wine. 
We  drank  it,  but  without  giving  heed.  The  splendid 
wine  —  it  must  feel  the  affront.  My  friends,  I  invite 
you  to  drink  —  and  with  attention.  Wine  asks  to  be 
poured  and  enjoyed.  Its  taste  goes  between  our 
tongues  and  our  palates  like  the  enchanting  melody 
of  a  violin ;  but  once  it  arrives  at  its  destination,  it 
spreads  through  our  beings  like  a  glorious  orchestra. 
Drink,  my  guests,  and  go  beyond  your  measure.  The 
King  has  but  one  daughter  —  but  one  betrothal  to 
celebrate.  And  know  this,  if  you  know  it  not  al- 
ready :  the  King  is  happy  in  the  son  that  his  daugh- 
ter brings  to  him.  My  son-in-law  —  our  prince  — 
we  may  well  be  proud  of  him.  That  my  wise  daugh- 
ter should  fall  so  deeply  in  love  with  him  is  greater 
testimony  of  his  worth  than  a  thousand  volumes. 
You  see  how  red  our  daughter  has  become.  Ha,  ha, 
ha! 

PRINCESS.  I  feel  very  warm.  May  I  go  to  an 
open  window? 

KING.  Betake  your  virgin  modesty  to  the  window, 
and  let  it  be  kissed  and  caressed  by  cool  zephyrs. 

PRINCE.     May  I  accompany  her  ? 


92        THE  INVENTOR  AND  THE  KING'S  DAUGHTER 

KING.  Are  you  jealous  of  the  breeze?  Would 
you  take  over  the  work  of  the  wind?  You  make  her 
blush  all  the  harder.  Go,  my  prince.  With  you  at 
her  side,  the  outside  world  will  look  in  more  joyously 
at  her. 

PRINCESS  AND  PRINCE  (bow  themselves  away  and 
go  to  the  front  window,  just  beyond  the  end  of  the 
table). 

KING  (following  them  with  his  glance).  Ha,  ha! 
To  the  loneliest  window,  of  course.  To  be  alone 
amidst  all  the  noise  and  the  crowd,  and  to  hear  only 
themselves.  My  dear  chancellor,  and  you,  my  dear 
minister,  come  closer  to  me,  and  let's  discuss  a  cer- 
tain matter.  My  guests,  let  us  not  disturb  you. 
Permit  their  Highnesses  their  solitude  in  the  midst 
of  many,  and  forget  they  are  here  amongst  us. 

JESTER  (barks  from  his  place  under  the  table,  and 
cries  through  his  gag).  But  I  would  wish  that  my 
solitude  were  not  forgotten ! 

THE  GUESTS  (busy  themselves  with  eating  and 
drinking.  The  CHANCELLOR  and  the  TREASURER 
take  seats  closer  to  the  KING). 

PRINCESS  (at  the  window,  to  the  PRINCE).  You 
read  my  mind  as  if  my  book  of  thoughts  lay  open  be- 
fore you. 

PRINCE.  Your  thoughts  are  mine ;  mine,  too,  are 
your  desires.  I  live  only  because  I  carry  you  so 
deeply  in  my  heart.  The  King  believes  that  he  does 
well  for  us  in  keeping  the  guests  so  long.  But  we 
two  yearn  only  for  solitude. 


THE  INVENTOR  AND  THE  KING'S  DAUGHTER        93 

PRINCESS.     He  is  so  happy. 

PRINCE.  Yes.  I  feel  nothing  against  him.  It 
was  very  kind  of  him  to  allow  us  to  leave  our  places 
and  come  here. 

PRINCESS  (nestling  close  to  him).  My  dear  be- 
loved ! 

PRINCE.  I  have  already  forgotten  the  guests  and 
the  excitement.  Only  your  touch  intoxicates  me,  and 
your  words  of  love  resound  within  me,  as  if  the  great 
hall  were  filled  with  wondrous  song. 

PRINCESS.     Shall  I  tell  you  how  much  I  love  you? 

PRINCE.  You  ask?  Never  shall  I  weary  hearing 
you  tell  it. 

PRINCESS.     Give  me  your  hand. 

PRINCE.     Oh,  what  happiness ! 

PRINCESS  (presses  his  hand  to  her  heart).  Do  you 
hear  that  speech?  What  am  I  saying  to  you? 

PRINCE.     I  could  shout  for  joy. 

PRINCESS.  From  the  tips  of  my  toes  —  I  have 
very  pretty  toes,  and  they  must  be  pinker  now  than 
ever  —  to  the  roots  of  my  red  hair  —  isn't  it  redder 
now  than  before?  —  a  river  of  love  glows  through  me 
and  inundates  me  entirely. 

PRINCE.  Just  like  the  river  of  love  that  courses 
through  me.  And  when  the  rivers  meet  — 

PRINCESS.     Are  not  all  eyes  directed  on  us? 

PRINCE.  I  do  not  wish  to  turn  my  eyes  away 
from  you. 

PRINCESS.  If  we  should  lean  far  forward  out  o-f 
the  window,  into  the  darkness  of  the  night  — 


94        THE  INVENTOR  AND  THE  KING'S  DAUGHTER 

PRINCE.  Then  our  lips  will  believe  we  are  unseen. 
(They  gaze  upon  each  other  passionately,  and  lean 
slowly  out  of  the  window,  closely  clasped.) 

A  SERVANT  (enters  and  bows  before  the  KING). 

KING  (interrupting  his  conversation  with  the 
CHANCELLOR  and  the  TREASURER).  What  have  you 
to  say? 

SERVANT.  A  man  has  come  upon  a  weighty  er- 
rand, and  says  that  he  must  see  Your  Majesty. 

KING.  A  weighty  errand?  And  what  is  the 
weighty  matter? 

SERVANT.  He  says  that  he  can  tell  the  King 
alone. 

KING.  Then  let  him  come  to-morrow,  or  the  day 
after.  Have  him  seized  and  held  under  lock  and  key, 
until  I  have  slept  the  betrothal  celebration  out  of  all 
my  bones. 

SERVANT.  He  says  that  it  is  of  the  utmost  impor- 
tance to  the  King  and  his  realm. 

KING.  Did  you  not  try  to  drive  him  off  -with  your 
halberds,  or  has  he  bribed  all  of  you? 

SERVANT.  We  all  felt  that  the  man  and  what  he 
brought  were  really  important. 

KING  (eyeing  him  sharply).  Good.  Then  bring 
him  here.  And  if  it  turns  out  that  this  important 
matter  was  important  only  to  him,  then  you  shall 
share  his  punishment.  Nor  will  it  be  less  for  each  of 
you  on  that  account.  Go,  fetch  him !  It  is  too  late 
for  you  to  change  your  mind. 

SERVANT  (bows  and  leaves). 


THE  INVENTOR  AND  THE  KING'S  DAUGHTER        95 

KING  (to  CHANCELLOR  and  TREASURER).  Can 
you  guess  what  this  may  be? 

TREASURER.  If  your  majesty  cannot  guess  it, 
how  can  we? 

CHANCELLOR.  Important  to  King  and  realm  — 
those  were  his  words.  We  should  have  made  inquiry 
whence  he  came  —  from  what  state,  across  what  bor- 
ders? We  haven't  even  asked  whether  he  was  a  sub- 
ject of  the  King  or  of  a  foreign  land? 

JESTER.     Ask  me  — 

SERVANTS  (move  against  the  JESTER). 

JESTER  (barking).     Bow,  wow,  wow! 

KING.  Good,  fool.  I'll  ask  you.  Tell  me,  what 
is  this  important  matter?" 

JESTER.  Let  them  ungag  my  mouth  and  I'll  crawl 
out  from  under  the  table. 

KING.     And  then  you'll  tell  me? 

JESTER.  And  you  will  see  that  I  shall  answer 
correctly. 

KING  (to  SERVANTS).  Remove  the  gag  from  his 
mouth. 

JESTER  (crawling  out  of  his  place).  It  was  im- 
portant that  he  should  come  and  that  I  should  have 
my  mouth  freed  and  be  released  from  my  place  under 
the  table  —  Bow,  wow,  wow !  {Scampers  off  across 
the  hall,  amidst  the  uproarious  laughter  of  the 
guests.) 

SERVANTS  (give  chase  to  him). 

KING.  Let  him  run.  Because  he  was  more  clever, 
let  him  not  be  punished. 

JESTER    (hops    over    to    the    PRINCESS    and    the 


96        THE  INVENTOR  AND  THE  KING'S  DAUGHTER 

PRINCE,  who  are  leaning  out  of  the  window  united  in 
a  kiss.  Stops  short  and  surveys  them  with  various 
grimaces).  My  mouth  was  never  shut  for  me  in  such 
a  fashion. —  That's  what  is  called  a  kiss.  The  name 
I  know;  I  know  the  word  and  the  sound,  but  I  am 
unacquainted  with  the  taste.  It  must  be  good, 
though,  if  folks  can't  tear  away.  (Raising  his  voice 
somewhat.)  And  if  they  can  so  completely  forget 
themselves.  .  .  .  (Louder.)  And  if  they  haven't 
even  heard  me.  (Barks  very  loud.)  Bow,  wow, 
wow ! 

PRINCESS  AND  PRINCE  (separate  with  a  start  and 
rise). 

JESTER  (with  profuse  bows).  Pardon;  don't  let 
me  disturb  you.  You  may  commence  all  over  again, 
from  the  beginning.  I  merely  wished  to  inquire: 
When  is  the  kiss  sweetest  —  at  the  beginning,  when 
lips  just  touch,  or  —  what  a  fool  I  am  to  ask! 
Surely  in  the  middle,  for  if  it  were  sweetest  at  the 
beginning,  then  you  would  quickly  cease  and  begin 
at  the  beginning  again.  As  to  the  end  —  only  the 
end  of  sorrows  is  sweet. 

STRANGER  (enters,  accompanied*  by  the  SERVANT. 
Since  the  KING  is  engrossed  in  conversation  with  the 
CHANCELLOR  and  the  TREASURER  the  STRANGER  re- 
mains standing  at  a  respectful  distance.  The  hall  be- 
comes silent.  All  eyes  are  turned  toward  the  new- 
comer). 

PRINCESS.     Who  is  that  man? 

JESTER.     My  liberation. 


THE  INVENTOR  AND  THE  KING'S  DAUGHTER        97 

PRINCE.  Can't  you  speak  more  clearly  to  the 
Princess  ? 

JESTER.  It  is  just  as  I  say.  Because  he  came 
I  was  liberated. 

KING  (to  the  STRANGER).  Approach  and  tell 
what  important  matter  has  brought  you  to  me. 

STRANGER  (approaches  and  bows). 

KING.     Who  are  you? 

STRANGER.  I  am  an  inventor,  a  loyal  subject  of 
your  Majesty,  and  have  contrived  a  great  invention. 

KING.  And  did  you  have  to  come  to  me  with  it 
just  at  this  moment,  in  the  midst  of  my  festivities? 

INVENTOR.  I  had  to  come  with  it  this  very  mo- 
ment. Before  I  was  not  fully  ready  with  it,  and  aft- 
erward it  would  have  been  too  late. 

KING.     What  is  your  invention? 

INVENTOR.  The  greatest  that  the  world  has  ever 
known. 

KING.  That  does  not  make  the  matter  clearer  to 
me. 

INVENTOR.  If  you  accept  my  invention,  you  will 
increase  your  own  happiness  and  that  of  your  sub- 
jects forever.  Nay,  the  whole  world  will  turn  to  you, 
as  to  its  greatest  savior,  and  you  will  become  the  ruler 
of  the  earth. 

KING.  Then  how  is  it  that  you  have  not  become 
that  ruler? 

INVENTOR.  If  you  should  be  that,  then  I  should 
become  it,  too.  And  I  need  your  help. 

KING.     The  matter  is  still  hazy  to  me. 


98        THE  INVENTOR  AND  THE  KING'S  DAUGHTER 

JESTER.  Behold!  A  second  fool  has  come  to 
light ! 

KING.  What  is  your  invention?  And  how  can  I 
be  of  help? 

INVENTOR.  First  let  me  tell  you  all  about  myself. 
My  ancestry,  and  my  pedigree. 

KING.  And  what  has  that  to  do  with  your  inven- 
tion? I  wish  to  know  that  alone. 

INVENTOR.  My  King,  first  7  came,  then  my  inven- 
tion. And  moreover,  my  discovery  is  so  great,  that 
only  through  the  immense  power  that  lay  accumu- 
lating through  generations,  finally  to  be  embodied  in 
me,  was  I  able  to  accomplish  it. 

KING.  And  you  descended  from  a  long  line  of 
sages  ? 

INVENTOR.  Quite  the  opposite,  my  King.  I 
speak  of  accumulated  power  —  power  of  mind,  which 
was  not  used,  not  expended,  not  employed. 

KING.     Be  brief,  then.     Tell  us  of  your  ancestry. 

INVENTOR.  Neither  my  father  nor  my  grand- 
fathers and  great  grandfathers,  for  seven  genera- 
tions past,  on  Tboth  my  maternal  and  paternal  sides, 
have  died  a  natural  death.  They  all  met  their  end 
upon  the  gallows  for  robbery,  crime  and  murder.  (A 
roar  of  laughter. ) 

CHANCELLOR  (laughing).  And  how  about  the  fe- 
male ancestors? 

JESTER.  Take  all  the  maidens  away.  They  must 
not  hear  this. 

INVENTOR.  You  are  right.  My  mother  and  my 
grandmothers  and  my  great  grandmothers,  also  on 


THE  INVENTOR  AND  THE  KING'S  DAUGHTER        99 

both  sides,  were  public  houses  for  friends  and  guests 
and  passers-by.  (A  din  of  laughter.) 

FIRST  COURTIER.  And  how  was  it  before  the  seven 
generations  ? 

SECOND  DITTO.  How  do  you  know  who  was  your 
father? 

THIRD  DITTO.  For  seven  generations  and  even 
longer,  filth  was  accumulating.  .  .  . 

FOURTH  DITTO.     Crime  and  prostitution.  .  .  . 

JESTER.  Out  of  seven  generations  of  ugliness  I 
was  born  —  the  ugliest  of  all. 

KING.  Enough.  The  gallows  has  kept  him  wait- 
ing all  tcio  long,  so  this  churl  comes  to  remind  it  of 
its  due. 

INVENTOR.  You  may  hang  me  when  you  have 
heard  all  I  have  to  say.  My  King,  in  every  fool  there 
is  hidden  at  least  a  spark  of  spirit  and  wisdom;  in 
every  vagabond,  a  drop  of  honesty.  And  in  the 
seven  criminal  generations  of  my  ancestors  wisdom 
and  honesty  kept  the  tiny  spark  aflame.  Spark  by 
spark  it  was  treasured  up  from  generation  to  genera- 
tion —  drop  by  drop  —  and  all  this  hoard  was  de- 
livered to  me. 

TREASURER.     A  bedbug  could  carry  all  the  hoard. 

JESTER.  And  thereupon  the  sparks  drank  all  the 
drops ;  and  then  the  drops  extinguished  all  the  sparks. 
So  what  was  left?  (Laughter.) 

INVENTOR  (proud,  firm)-  I  have  made  the  great- 
est of  inventions. 

CHANCELLOR.     And    this    greatest    invention    of 


100      THE  INVENTOR  AND  THE  KING'S  DAUGHTER 

yours  is  —  a  mere  invention,  a  manufactured  lie. 
(Laughter.) 

INVENTOR.  I  have  made  the  greatest  of  inven- 
tions. (The  laughter  ceases.)  It  means  world-siv- 
premacy  for  the  King ;  it  means  a  blessing  to  human- 
ity ;  it  means,  perhaps,  eternal  life. 

KING.     His  very  words  nauseate  me  to  the  core. 

INVENTOR.  Your  Majesty,  I  was  overcome  with 
nausea  at  myself.  The  crimes  of  seven  generations 
weighed  heavily  upon  me,  and  I  pondered  continually 
how  to  redeem  them  —  how  to  make  good  what  seven 
generations  had  made  so  evil.  The  filth  of  seven 
generations  clung  to  me,  and  I  longed  for  purity, 
seeking  how  to  cleanse  myself.  This  it  was  that  led 
me  to  the  thought  that  I  must  accomplish  something 
for  which  mankind  would  be  forever  grateful.  And 
for  years  I  labored  and  thought  severely,  seeking 
without  rest,  with  one  goal  alone  before  my  eyes. 
And  I  prayed  long  to  God  —  I  dwelt  in  deep  solitude, 
secluded  from  the  whole  world,  alone  with  my  studies, 
my  thoughts  and  my  God.  And  God  heard  my 
prayers  and  answered  them. 

KING  (with  disgust).     What  is  your  invention? 

INVENTOR.  God  has  permitted  me  to  peer  into  the 
secrets  of  His  creation,  to  behold  that  which  none  has 
beheld  before  me,  to  discover  powers  in  nature  that 
none  has  ever  before  suspected. 

TREASURER.  And  just  as  they  have  never  been 
suspected,  neither  are  they  there. 

INVENTOR.     Do  you  know  the  sun? 


THE  INVENTOR  AND  THE  KING'S  DAUGHTER      101 

TREASURER.  I  know  her  well,  but  I  have  never 
had  the  honor  of  being  introduced. 

INVENTOR.  Of  course,  you  know  the  sun.  All  of 
you  know  the  power  that  you  feel.  You  know  that 
you  need  the  sun  for  the  growth  of  your  crops.  You 
know,  too,  how  necessary  it  is  to  your  good  humor. 
Yet  the  sun  is  not  in  your  power.  It  serves  you,  but 
you  cannot  yet  command  it.  At  night  you  have  to 
wait  till  day  arrives.  And  if  the  day  brings  rain, 
then  you  must  wait  until  the  clouds  have  emptied  and 
gone  by. 

CHANCELLOR.  Wondrous  are  the  tales  he  tells  to 
us.  And  is  this  the  important  news  that  brought  you 
hither  ? 

TREASURER.  Soon  he  will  tell  us  that  when  the 
sun  shines  it  is  bright,  and  that  when  darkness  comes 
it  is  a  sign  that  the  sun  is  not  shining. 

INVENTOR.  7  have  discovered  how  to  harness  the 
sun's  rays  to  my  will,  and  to  place  them  in  my  service. 

CHANCELLOR.  Perhaps  this  fellow's  the  Devil! 
Are  you  a  sorcerer? 

INVENTOR.  Your  Majesty,  I  desire  to  be  taken 
seriously. 

KING.     Do  not  interrupt  him. 

INVENTOR.  I  am  no  sorcerer,  neither  have  I  done 
anything  supernatural.  God  has  helped  me  to  utilize 
His  power.  He  has  aided  me  in  constructing  a  device 
which  catches  the  rays  of  the  sun,  and  through  it  I 
can  perform  all  manner  of  miracles  that  the  sun  per- 
forms, and  even  more.  For  to  the  power  of  the  sun 
is  added  the  wisdom  of  man  and  his  piety. 


102      THE  INVENTOR  AND  THE  KING'S  DAUGHTER 

TREASURER.     How  ill  that  sounds  from  his  mouth ! 

KING.     What  miracles  can  you  perform? 

INVENTOR.  I  have  told  you  already,  my  King. 
Or  did  you  misunderstand  me?  All  the  wonders  of 
the  sun  and  more.  Through  my  device  night  can  be 
made  to  cease,  cold  can  be  banished;  you  can  attach 
it  to  your  chariot  and  it  will  bear  you  faster  than  the 
fastest  steeds.  You  will  no  longer  need  oars  for  your 
vessels,  yet  you  will  cut  through  the  waves  of  the  most 
distant  seas  faster  than  ever.  It  will  raise  you  aloft, 
as  on  the  wings  of  the  mightiest  eagle;  it  will  bore 
you  a  tunnel  to  all  the  treasures  of  earth's  depths. 
The  power  that  is  locked  within  it  can  heal  wounds 
that  have  hitherto  been  beyond  cure.  .  .  . 

LAME  COURTIER.     Can  it  straighten  my  limbs? 

INVENTOR.  If  you  have  not  lost  your  feet  en- 
tirely. 

BLIND  COURTIER.  Can  it  restore  the  light  of  my 
eyes  ? 

INVENTOR.  If  your  eyes  have  not  utterly  leaked 
out. 

ANOTHER  COURTIER.  Can  it  make  the  deaf  hear? 
Can  it  make  the  dumb  speak?  I  have  two  little  chil- 
dren, a  son  and  a  daughter,  as  beautiful  as  cherubs, 
but  both  are  deaf  and  dumb. 

INVENTOR.  Their  speech  will  soon  be  gladdening 
your  heart. 

LOVELORN  SUITOR.  I  am  lovesick.  The  glorious 
maiden  of  my  desire  has  locked  her  heart  and  bosom 
against  me.  Can  your  device  assist  me  here? 

INVENTOR.     Should  you  desire  to  commit  suicide 


THE  'INVENTOR  AND  THE  KING'S  'DAUGHTER      103 

you  will  find  in  my  contrivance  the  speediest,  least 
painful  of  deaths. 

A  LADY.     Can  it  restore  youth? 

INVENTOR.  I  assure  you  you  will  look  like  your 
own  daughter's  daughter. 

LADY.     The  impudence!     I'm  still  a  girl  myself! 

SECOND  LADY  (bashfully).     Can  it  give  beauty? 

INVENTOR.  As  beautiful  as  you  would  wish  your- 
self. 

JESTER  (with  an  outcry).  Can  it  really  give 
beauty? 

INVENTOR.  You  will  not  know  yourself.  Your 
yellow,  decayed  teeth  will  turn  white  again  and  sound. 
Those  long  tusks  that  protrude  from  your  mouth 
will  be  filed  down  and  take  their  place  in  a  row  with 
all  their  smaller  neighbors.  Your  hump  will  be 
crushed  in  between  your  shoulder-blades  and  dissolve 
into  muscles  and  fat  and  you  will  gain  in  stature  what 
your  hump  robbed  you  of. 

JESTER  (excited).  Beware,  I  tell  you!  I  know 
sharper  gibes  than  that ! 

INVENTOR.  I  am  far  from  jesting,  and  only  once 
in  all  my  life  have  I  laughed  —  the  moment  when  I 
saw  that  my  invention  was  a  success. 

JESTER  (with  bated  breath).  And  can  you  really 
make  me  beautiful? 

INVENTOR.  You  will  soon  be  convinced.  You 
will  feel  as  if  newborn. 

JESTER  (stirred  to  the  highest  pitch).  I  shall  be 
beautiful !  My  hump  will  dissolve  and  my  height  will 
increase!  My  mouth  will  be  shorn  of  its  terror! 


104      THE  INVENTOR  AND  THE  KING'S  DAUGHTER 

Fair  shall  I  be !  Yes,  fair !  And  then  am  I  fool  no 
longer !  Have  you  beheld  a  fair  one  spat  upon  the 
face?  Have  you  beheld  a  handsome  one  chastised 
with  the  lash?  Have  you  heard  of  one  that's  fair  suf- 
fering ugly  treatment  ?  Oh,  I  shall  be  fair  —  freed 
of  folly  —  and  then  I,  too,  will  kiss  a  pretty  maiden. 
Kiss  —  a  —  pretty  —  maiden  !  At  the  window,  wide 
open  to  night's  sheltering  darkness,  bosom  to  bosom 
pressed  tight!  (To  the  LADIES.)  Hey!  Who  of 
you  will  wish  to  be  carried  off  by  me?  I  long  to  be 
abducted  by  you  all !  Handsome  shall  I  be,  and  as  to 
brains,  I've  always  — 

KING.     He  has  gone  mad.     Have  him  quieted. 

JESTER  (hops  away).  I  shall  be  handsome!  I 
shall  be  fair !  Bow,  wow,  wow ! 

AN  OLD  COURTIER.  And  can  you  really  bring 
back  youth? 

INVENTOR.  I  have  already  answered  that  ques- 
tion for  one  of  the  ladies.  I  can  make  you  young. 
And  as  I  have  said  —  my  invention  will  perhaps  bring 
life  everlasting. 

OLD  COURTIER.     Why  your  "  perhaps  "  ? 

INVENTOR.  How  can  I  be  certain  ?  Life  everlast- 
ing alone  can  prove  it.  I  assert  only  that  of  which 
I  am  certain. 

CHANCELLOR.  You  said  before  that  it  can  also 
kill. 

INVENTOR.  You  find  in  it  what  you  seek.  It  has 
the  power  to  give  eternal  life,  and  is  at  the  same  time 
a  deadly  weapon.  In  war  you  will  be  able,  with  its 


THE  INVENTOR  AND  THE  KING'S  DAUGHTER      105 

aid,  to  annihilate  the  King's  enemies  as  if  by  sun- 
stroke. 

TREASURER.  Can  it  also  transmute  stone  and  sand 
into  gold? 

INVENTOR.  How  strange !  That  selfsame  claim 
was  on  my  tongue.  You  took  the  very  words  from 
out  my  mouth.  Yes  ;  my  device  most  surely  has  that 
power. 

KING.     Have  you  it  with  you  here? 

INVENTOR.  No,  and  yes.  No,  because  it  is  not 
here  in  completed  form.  Yes,  because  it  is  in  my 
brain  and  ready  to  be  set  up  at  any  moment. 

KING.     When  will  you  set  it  up  for  me? 

INVENTOR.  When  your  majesty  will  consent  to 
lend  me  aid. 

KING.     And  how  can  I  lend  you  aid? 

INVENTOR.  My  King,  the  Lord  has  beheld  my 
yearning  for  purification  and  sent  me  this  invention. 
He  was  good  to  me.  He  heard  my  prayers.  The 
earth,  all  earth,  will  bless  my  name  forever ;  my  name 
will  blaze  like  a  shining  star,  eternally,  upon  the 
firmament  of  humanity.  But,  like  the  nebulous  tail 
of  a  glorious  comet,  there  will  trail  after  me  the 
shame  and  disgrace  of  seven  evil  generations.  All 
the  boons  that  I  will  bring  through  my  invention  will 
not  suffice  to  extinguish  the  spot  of  my  brilliant  sun. 
But  I  do  not  wish  to  carry  the  spot  upon  me ;  it  must 
be  wiped  out  in  its  entirety.  I  wish  to  stand  before 
the  world  unstained.  You  can  help  me. 

KING.  I  have  already  asked  you,  How?  How 
would  you  be  cleansed? 


106      THE  INVENTOR  AND  THE  KING'S  DAUGHTER 

INVENTOR.  Through  union  with  the  highest 
purity. 

KING.     And  that  is? 

INVENTOR.  Your  daughter.  (A  stir  among  the 
guests.) 

KING.     What? 

INVENTOR.     I  want  your  daughter  for  my  wife. 

PRINCESS  (clutching  the  PRINCE,  with  an  outcry). 

PRINCE  (seizes  the  hilt  of  his  sword). 

INVENTOR.  Perhaps  in  generations  yet  to  come 
humanity  will  endow  me  with  another  ancestry. 
Ashamed  to  own  a  foul  soul  as  a  savior,  it  will  ascribe 
new  parentage  to  me,  of  pure,  unsullied  lineage.  But 
as  a  King's  son-in-law  I  should  at  once  attain  that 
which  otherwise  I  must  await  for  generations.  Your 
royal  splendor  would  at  once  illumine  my  entire  pedi- 
gree and  cause  my  father  and  mother  to  be  forgotten. 

KING  (breathes  with  difficulty;  eyes  the  INVENTOR 
with  wild  fury,  clinches  his  fist,  as  if  seeking  a  pun- 
ishment for  the  man). 

INVENTOR.  You  are  angry,  your  majesty?  Is 
my  request,  then,  so  much  too  great?  Here  I  have 
brought  all  mankind's  happiness.  Do  I  not,  then,  de- 
serve the  great  purificai  ion  ?  I  have  brought  you,  my 
King,  power  over  all  and  seek  to  be  uplifted  through 
you.  Does  the  exchange  seem  not  worth  while  to 
you?  O  King,  the  Lord  sent  the  invention  to  me 
that  I  might  thus  reach  you. 

KING  (throws  his  wineglass  at  the  INVENTOR  and 
thunders).  Remove  him  from  my  sight!  Take  him 
away !  Hang  him  !  Burn  him  !  No.  Torture  him 


THE  INVENTOR  AND  THE  KING'S  DAUGHTER      107 

as  none  before  him  has  been  tortured!  Chancellor, 
Treasurer,  all  my  counsellors,  all  you  wise  and  all  you 
wicked  guests  of  mine,  get  together  and  think  out  the 
most  exquisite  punishments  !  ( The  SERVANTS  move 
slowly  and  hesitantly  toward  the  INVENTOR.) 

INVENTOR.  O  King,  are  you  in  doubt  about  my 
claim  ?  Would  I  have  risked  my  life  and  come  to  you 
with  a  device  that  had  not  proved  itself?  Do  I  not 
know  what  my  end  would  be  if  I  deceived  you?  Do 
you  think  that  I  asked  your  credence  only  on  my 
word?  Promise  me  your  daughter  —  only  give  me 
your  pledge  —  that  she  will  become  my  wife  when 
you  shall  learn  that  all  I  claim  is  just  as  I  have  said. 

PRINCESS  (m  great  excitement}.  And  even  if  it  be 
true  —  even  if  it  be  a  thousand  times  true,  never  will 
I  be  his  wife !  And  if  it  perform  even  more  than  he 
claims  for  it  —  I  love  my  Prince  t  I  love  my  Prince ! 

KING  (to  SERVANTS).  Why  so  slow,  you  hounds? 
Do  you  wish  to  be  those  from  whom  he  will  learn  how 
great  his  tortures  are  to  be?  Take  him  away  as  fast 
as  possible!  Give  him  his  reward.  (To  the  SERV- 
ANT who  announced  the  INVENTOR'S  arrival.)  — And 
you,  who  smuggled  him  into  the  hall,  who  so  earnestly 
assured  us  of  his  importance,  unless  you  care  to  share 
his  fate  with  him,  as  I  had  promised,  execute  every 
torture  that  will  be  invented  for  him.  And  see  that 
you  invent  a  few  more,  to  make  up  for  what  the  others 
have  omitted. 

INVENTOR  (warding  off  the  servants).  Grant  me 
but  a  few  words  more.  God's  will  must  be  done. 
Daughter  of  the  King,  you  were  pointed  out  to  me 


108      THE  INVENTOR  AND  THE  KING'S  DAUGHTER 

by  the  Lord.  Even  as  the  invention,  so  from  Him, 
too,  comes  the  thought  that  I  must  demand  you  for 
my  wife.  You  have  been  chosen  by  Him  for  my  great 
purification.  See,  I  place  within  your  tender  hands 
the  happiness  of  all  humanity. 

PRINCESS  (presses  more  closely  to  the  PRINCE). 
Oh,  let  him  not  address  me ! 

KING.     Why  is  he  still  permitted  to  speak? 

JESTER  (cries  out).  I  want  to  be  handsome!  I 
want  to  be  fair! 

LAME   COURTIER.     He  can  straighten  my  limbs ! 

BLIND  DITTO.  He  will  restore  the  light  to  my 
eyes ! 

INVENTOR.  The  ills  of  all  humanity  cry  out  aloud 
to  thee,  beauteous  daughter  of  the  King. 

PRINCESS.     No !     No ! 

KING.     Remove  that  heap  of  filth,  I  say ! 

PRINCE  (springing  suddenly  across  the  table, 
dashes  toward  the  INVENTOR  and  runs  him  through 
the  breast  with  the  sword).  Here  is  your  purifica- 
tion, you  scoundrel,  you  mangy  dog! 

INVENTOR  (clutches  his  wound).  The  greatest 
crime  of  the  ages  has  been  committed !  (Falls  dead.) 

JESTER  (with  outcry  falls  over  his  body.  Mur- 
mur among  the  guests). 

KING.  Take  him  away  and  throw  him  to  the 
hounds!  What  are  you  murmuring  about  there? 
Did  you  wish  your  King  to  be  a  mat  upon  which  a 
man  who  rose  from  the  filth  of  hell  should  wipe  his 
feet?  You  are  dismissed.  The  festivities  are  over. 
Good  night  to  you  all.  Come,  my  daughter! 


THE  INVENTOR  AND  THE  KING'S  DAUGHTER      109 

Smooth  your  forehead  and  drive  from  your  memory 
all  thought  of  this  interruption.  We'll  do  better 
at  your  wedding.  Hell,  let  us  hope,  has  no  more 
filth  to  spew.  Come,  Prince !  Let  me  grasp  your 
hand.  If  I  could  jump  a  table  as  well  as  you,  I,  too, 
should  have  drawn  my  sword.  And  yet  you  were  a 
trifle  hasty  there.  You  released  him  all  too  soon 
from  his  well-merited  tortures.  Chancellor !  Minis- 
ter! Good-night!  (KING,  PRINCESS,  PRINCE, 
CHANCELLOR,  MINISTER  and  many  oilier  guests  fie 
out.) 

SERVANTS  (thrust  away  the  JESTER  and  carry  off 
the  INVENTOR'S  body). 

JESTER  (leith  a  tearful  voice).  Ah!  .  .  .  Do  you 
know  what  it  is  to  be  ugly  ?  Do  you  know  what  it  is 
to  carry  a  hump  on  your  back  all  your  life?  Do  you 
know  what  it  is  not  to  know  what  a  kiss  from  a 
maiden  tastes  like?  And  he  had  it  in  his  power. 
.  .  .  Ah!  .  .  . 

LAME  COURTIER.  He  would  have  straightened  out 
my  foot. 

BLIND  DITTO.     My  sight  would  have  been  restored. 

FATHER  OF  DEAF  AND  DUMB  CHILDREN.  My  dear 
children!  My  poor,  miserable,  deaf  and  dumb  dar- 
lings ! 

LADY.  What  will  the  world  say  when  it  learns  of 
this? 

COURTIER.  The  world  will  say:  There  was  one 
who  strove  for  greater  purity.  God  helped  him,  but 
when  he  came  to  human  beings  he  was  slain. 

SECOND  DITTO.     The  world  will  say:     There  was 


110      THE  INVENTOR  AND  THE  KING'S  DAUGHTER 

a  King  who  abjured  world  domination,  because  he 
did  not  wish  to  unite  his  family  with  that  of  an 
impure  churl. 

SECOND  LADY.  The  world  will  say:  There  was 
a  Princess  who  refused  immortality  because  she 
loved. 

AN  OLD  COURTIER.  No,  no.  The  world  will 
curse.  He  brought  to  her  the  gift  of  eternal  sun 
.  .  .  eternal  youth  .  .  .  life  everlasting.  .  .  . 

THIRD  LADY.  The  world  will  be  steeped  in  sor- 
row. 


CURTAIN 


DIPLOMACY 

A  Satire 


PERSONS 

THE  CHANCELLOR. 
His  WIFE. 

THE  LEADER  OF  THE  YELLOW  PARTY. 
THE  LEADER  OF  THE  BLACKS. 
THE  LEADER  OF  THE   BLUES. 
THE  LEADER  OF  THE  GRAYS. 
A  SECRETARY. 

THE  MOB,  composed  of  adherents  of  the  various 
parties. 

TIME  AND   PLACE  —  Of  a  fairy-tale. 


DIPLOMACY 

The  spacious  ante-room  of  the  chancellery.  In  the 
background,  high,  wide  windows;  benches  running 
along  the  entire  length  of  the  watt.  To  the  right, 
two  doors  leading  to  the  CHANCELLOR'S  quarters. 
The  forward  door  opens  into  the  CHANCELLOR'S 
cabinet,  where  he  is  now  engaged.  To  the  left,  a 
broad  staircase. 

The  leader  of  the  YELLOWS  and  the  leader  of  the 
BLACKS  are  engrossed  in  conversation,  at  the  same 
time  keeping  a  close  watch  upon  the  cabinet  door. 

THE  LEADER  OF  THE  YELLOWS  (garbed  in  a  fan- 
tastic costume  of  yellow).  Live  and  let  live,  that 
has  always  been  my  motto.  I  demand  much  for 
me  and  mine,  but  I  am  willing  to  let  the  other  fellow 
have  his  share;  nor  do  I  forget  my  folk  and  father- 
land. Gladly  will  I  support  you  in  your  demands, 
if  they  do  not  conflict  with  my  own,  and  if  I  feel 
that  mine  are  quite  secure. 

THE  LEADER  or  THE  BLACKS  (garbed  in  a  fan- 
tastic costume  of  black).  My  demands  have  al- 
ways been  the  most  important,  dear  friend.  You 
think  only  of  yourself,  while  I  consider  all  the  peo- 
ple. 

YELLOW.  Ah!  I  can  turn  your  own  words  in 
113 


114  DIPLOMACY 

my  favor  and  against  yourself.  I  maintain  that  not 
until  my  demands  have  been  granted  will  our  people 
truly  live. 

BLACK.  But  you  think  merely  of  the  body.  I 
minister  to  the  soul. 

YELLOW.  Excellent.  Then  you  and  I  must  be 
one.  We  must  support  each  other  and  work  hand 
in  hand.  Then  will  the  whole  people  be  well  pro- 
vided for  —  both  in  body  and  soul. 

BLACK.     The  soul  comes  first. 

YELLOW.  We'll  never  come  to  an  understanding. 
You  are  so  frightfully  obstinate.  You  wish  to  be 
the  sole  leader.  I  tell  you  frankly  and  like  a  friend : 
you'll  never  succeed.  And  in  the  end,  you'll  lose  to 
me. 

BLACK.     What?     You  dare  — 

YELLOW.  Be  calm!  We've  got  a-talking  and 
strayed  far  from  the  point.  Let's  get  back  to  the 
present  moment.  For  today,  at  least,  we  unite  in 
a  single  demand. 

BLACK.     From  different  points  of  view,  naturally. 

YELLOW.  Oh,  yes.  Of  course.  Yet  you  need 
the  war  no  less  than  I.  It  is  precisely  as  necessary  to 
your  interests  as  to  mine.  The  people  have  lost  their 
fear  of  God  and  the  churches  are  empty  — 

BLACK.     That's  the  deepest  disgrace  of  all ! 

YELLOW.  War  will  fill  them  for  you  once  again. 
It  is  your  duty  to  demand  the  war  in  the  name  of 
God  and  true  piety.  It  is  our  God  that  sends  us 
forth  to  battle.  He  is  with  us,  if  we  are  with 
Hkn  — 


DIPLOMACY  115 

BLACK.     You  speak  the  truth. 

YELLOW.  And  He  will  stand  by  us.  He  will 
drive  the  enemy  before  us,  and  will  visit  annihilation 
upon  them  —  with  the  help  of  our  army  and  our 
weapons.  He  will  deliver  into  our  hands  the  lands 
of  the  foe  and  make  the  enemy's  children  our  slaves. 
And  where  once  we  had  dangerous  competitors  we 
will,  with  the  help  of  the  Lord,  have  vassals  to  do 
our  will.  I  predict  that  the  people  will  throng  to 
your  churches  day  and  night,  to  pray  for  the  victory 
of  our  arms.  And  your  collection  plates  will  be- 
come fuller  and  fuller. 

BLACK.     My  plates  !  —  who  talks  of  plates  ? 

YELLOW.  Very  well. —  Let  it  be  your  bowls. — 
And  as  soon  as  the  war  is  over,  imagine !  You  will 
convert  the  enemy  to  our  faith.  Consider  what  will 
be  your  reward  for  that ! 

BLACK.     You  harp  eternally  on  reward. 

YELLOW.  I  mean  both  in  this  world  and  in  the 
next. 

BLACK.  The  main  point  is  that  I  desire  a  free 
hand  in  converting  the  enemy.  If  it  cannot  be  ac- 
complished with  kind,  friendly  words,  then  I  shall 
be  able  to  do  it  with  the  right  and  might  of  the 
victor. 

YELLOW.     So  then  —  we're  agreed. 

BLACK.  I  am  certainly  for  war.  I  must  favor 
war.  It  is  God's  will.  But  you  —  why  do  you  de- 
mand war  with  the  Turanian? 

YELLOW.     I  believe  I  have  explained  that  to  you 


116  DIPLOMACY 

already.  I  believe,  moreover,  that  7  am  the  most 
important  personage  in  the  matter. 

BLACK.  You,  the  most  important?  You,  with 
your  donkeys  that  he  has  seized? 

YELLOW.  At  any  rate  the  donkeys  furnish  an  ex- 
cellent reason  for  declaring  war  against  him.  The 
war  that  will  profit  both  you  and  me  considerably. 

BLACK.  God,  God  is  the  most  important  con- 
sideration. And  God  alone  is  the  reason. 

YELLOW.  Very  well.  I  concede  your  point. 
The  donkeys  are  merely  the  Lord's  ambassadors.  So 
then, —  give  me  your  hand  upon  it.  We'll  appear 
before  the  Chancellor  united,  with  a  single  purpose 
and  a  single  demand.  And  thus  we  shall  get  our  war. 
You  may  now  prepare  your  prayers  and  call  down 
upon  us  the  blessings  of  Heaven.  (Makes  a  low  bow 
to  the  BLACK.) 

BLACK  (blesses  the  YELLOW  with  a  silent  movement 
of  the  lips  and  a  pious  rotting  of  the  eyes). 

YELLOW.  And  now. —  Oh,  yes :  another  thing. 
We  must  stand  firm.  We  must  dictate  to  the  Chan- 
cellor. We  must.  (Interrupts  himself  and  looks  to- 
wards the  staircase.)  Here  comes  the  leader  of  the 
Blues  striding  proudly  up  the  stairs.  (Runs  over 
toward  the  BLUE.)  War! 

BLUE  (garbed  in  a  fantastic  costume  of  blue,  with 
sword  and  coat  of  mail).  What?  Has  the  chancel- 
lor already  reached  a  decision? 

YELLOW.  No.  Not  a  word  as  yet  from  the 
chancellor.  He's  been  locked  in  his  cabinet  for  the 
past  twenty-four  hours  — 


DIPLOMACY  117 

BLUE.  I  know  that.  Then  what  was  the  mean- 
ing of  your  cry  of  "  War  t  " 

YELLOW.  It  meant  that  he  and  I  are  as  much  in 
favor  of  this  war  as  you. 

BLUE.     As  I?     Ha,  ha! 

YELLOW.     What?     Aren't   you   for  war? 

BLUE.     For  war  —  yes  ! 

YELLOW.  That  means.  .  .  .  Oh,  I  see.  ...  I 
see !  .  .  .  War  is  your  profession,  your  business  and 
your  bread. 

BLUE.  Bah !  Business,  bread,  profession !  The 
shopkeeper  translates  it  into  his  own  language  and 

makes  a  shopkeeper  of  me !  Wai a  business ! 

War  —  a  profession !  Ha !  War, —  ah,  that  is 
something  a  shopkeeper  cannot  understand !  War 
is  the  sublimest  vocation,  the  noblest  of  arts  ! 

BLACK.     Forget  not  the  soldiers  of  the  Lord. 

BLUE.  The  word  comes  after  the  sword.  How 
could  you  ever  advance  God's  word  if  the  sword  did 
not  cut  a  passage  for  it?  Ah,  what  would  man- 
kind have  been,  if  God  had  not  blessed  it  with  war? 
It  would  have  overrun  the  earth  like  mice,  and  only 
pestilence  would  save  the  world  from  over-popula- 
tion. War,  too,  ennobles  man,  makes  him  courageous 
and  strong  and  wakes  him  to  deeds  of  daring! 
War- 

YELLOW.  Enough !  What  you  say  is  good,  and 
true !  The  main  point  is  that  we  are  unanimous  ! 

BLUE  (scornfully/).     Pah! 

YELLOW.     We  work  hand  in  hand. 

BLUE  (in  disgust).     He-he! 


118  DIPLOMACY 

YELLOW  (irritated,  loudly).  We  all  stand  for 
war.  In  the  name  of  our  people  and  our  country. 

BLACK.     And  the  Lord. 

YELLOW.  And  our  Lord. —  Naturally,  self-un- 
derstood —  we  must  declare  war  against  the  God- 
forsaken Turanian.  He  seized  our  donkeys.  .  .  . 

BLACK.     He  denies  our  faith. 

YELLOW.     For  that  he  shall  pay  us  dearly. 

BLUE  (drawing  his  sword).     That  he  will! 

BLACK.     Oh,  Heaven,  bless  Thou  our  arms ! 

BLUE.  I've  seen  to  that  already.  My  army  is 
vast  and  well  trained,  and  itches  for  combat.  It's 
impossible  to  hold  the  soldiers  back,  to  calm  them 
down.  Before  the  heathen  has  rubbed  the  sleep 
out  of  his  eyes,  he'll  lie  like  a  nut  between  the  divi- 
sions of  my  army  —  Crack !  And  crushed  he  is  like 
a  hollow  shell!  War!  War! 

YELLOW.  And  then  we'll  take  back  our  donkeys 
with  a  hundred  per  cent,  interest! 

BLACK.  And  we'll  open  his  heart  and  his  ears  so 
that  he  may  receive  God's  word  and  conceive  the  true 
mercy  of  the  Lord ! 

YELLOW.  Here  comes  the  leader  of  the  Grays. 
Shall  we  waste  much  time  arguing  with  him?  We'll 
inform  him  that  we've  decided  upon  war.  That  will 
suffice  him.  And  if  he  proves  obstinate  — 

BLACK.  It  would  be  better  if  we  come  before  the 
chancellor  as  a  united  people. 

GRAY  (garbed  in  a  fantastic  gray  costume,  ap- 
proaches with  a  humble  bow).  Good  day  to  you, 
gentlemen !  (The  YELLOW  and  the  BLACK  reply  with 


DIPLOMACY  119 

official  bows.  The  BLUE  turns  away  and  fences  with 
his  sword.) 

GEAY.  What's  the  news  ?  Has  his  Excellency  yet 
let  himself  be  heard  from? 

YELLOW.     Do  you  mean  whether  he  is  snoring? 

GEAY  (undecided  whether  to  laugh  or  not.  He 
commences  to  laugh  and  stops  at  once  in  embar- 
rassment). I  mean  —  that  is :  —  How  stands  it  with 
the  war? 

BLUE  (brandishing  his  sword  as  if  in  battle). 
War!  War! 

YELLOW.     We  stand  firm  for  war. 

BLACK.     It  is  God's  will. 

GEAY.  Yes,  yes  —  God's  will  —  Is  war  sure?  — 
I  think  —  we  think  — 

BLUE  (mockingly  continues  to  conjugate  the 
verb).  You  think,  they  think. 

GEAY  (confused).  He-he  — we  think  that  the  war 
is  — 

YELLOW.  Very  necessary  for  our  land  and  peo- 
ple. 

BLACK.     And  our  religion. 

GEAY.  Very  necessary.  .  .  .  He  —  he.  .  .  .  But 
we  think  — 

YELLOW.  From  whatever  standpoint  you  view  the 
matter,  there  must  be  war:  from  the  standpoint  of 
patriotism,  religion,  humanity,  morality,  hygiene, 
commerce  and  —  and  so  forth.  We  believe  that 
there  is  no  room  for  any  other  opinion  here.  If 
you  and  your  constituents  think  otherwise,  then  you 
haven't  considered  the  matter  carefully,  or  judged  it 


120  DIPLOMACY 

aright.  You  have  surely  looked  at  it  only  from 
the  gray  standpoint, —  and  that  standpoint  is  very 
narrow  and  short-sighted  and  —  and  gray.  You 
just  leave  everything  to  us.  We  desire  and  have 
always  desired  only  the  welfare  of  our  people  and 
our  entire  country.  Go  back  to  your  party  and 
bring  them  our  decision.  Tell  them  that  they  may 
rest  assured.  The  war  will  prove  a  blessing  to  all. 

BLACK.     From  His  Beloved  Name. 

BLUE.     War !     Ta  ra  ra  I     War  —  Hurrah ! 

GRAY  (scratching  his  head).  We  talked  the  mat- 
ter over  and  discussed  it  thoroughly.  We  see  that 
we  have  nothing  to  gain  from  the  war  — 

BLUE.  Gain  !  Gain !  Must  everything  be  reck- 
oned in  weights  and  measures,  and  in  filthy  coin! 
The  honor  of  our  arms  is  the  greatest  gain;  a  well- 
conducted  war  is  in  itself  the  highest  profit. 

BLACK.  We  will  win  the  conquered  Turanian  for 
our  faith  —  that  is  the  greatest  gain  of  all. 

YELLOW.  The  Turanian  must  not  grow  greater 
or  more  powerful.  To  render  him  powerless  is  a  huge 
gain  for  all  of  us. 

GRAY.     He  —  he,  yes,  but  — 

THE  BLACK,  BLUE  AND  YELLOW  (impatiently). 
But !  —  But !  —  But !  - 

GRAY  (timidly).  We  believe  that  we  will  lose  very 
much  by  the  war. 

YELLOW.     Not  so !     You  believe  what  is  very  silly. 

BLACK.     Believe  only  in  God  and  His  mercy. 

YELLOW.  What  have  you  to  lose,  anyway?  You 
retain  your  fields. 


DIPLOMACY  121 

GRAY.     But  consider.  .  .  . 

YELLOW.  We've  considered  everything  thor- 
oughly. We've  considered  your  interests  as  well  as 
ours.  You  must  raise  yourself  to  a  higher  stand- 
point. Your  eyes  must  be  able  to  encompass  more 
distant  horizons. 

BLACK.  You  must  learn  to  recognize  the  will  of 
the  Lord. 

YELLOW.  The  war  is  a  necessity,  imposed  upon 
us  by  the  Lord  Himself,  as  you  have  just  heard 
from  our  representative  of  God.  Ask  him  to  bless 
you,  and  — 

BLACK  (murmurs  a  prayer  and  rolls  his  eyes  pi- 
ously). 

YELLOW.  And  return  to  your  party  and  tell  them 
that  they  have  seen  the  matter  in  the  wrong  light. 
(To  the  others.)  Do  you  know  what?  Let's  all 
go  down  to  our  people  and  announce  to  them  that 
the  party  leaders  are  unanimous  in  their  decision 
for  war.  Such  news  will  rouse  them  more  than  ever 
for  war.  Perhaps  the  popular  demonstration  will 
hasten  the  chancellor  in  his  slow  deliberations. 

BLACK.     That's  a  splendid  suggestion. 

GRAY.  I'd  be  very  grateful  if  you'd  talk  matters 
over  a  little  with  my  people. 

BLUE.     I'm  off  to  drill  my  men  a  little. 

YELLOW.  Let  us  be  off,  too!  (Casting  a  glance 
towards  the  CHANCELLOR'S  cabinet.)  Not  a  sound 
comes  from  that  room. —  Then  let  the  street  make 
itself  heard.  (All  fie  out,  the  GRAY  at  the  rear. 
For  a  while  the  room  is  empty,  but  soon  the  CHAN- 


123  DIPLOMACY 

CELLOR'S  WIFE  comes  hurrying  up  the  stairs,  heavily 
veiled,  hastens  over  to  the  CHANCELLOR'S  door  and 
knocks.) 

A  SECRETARY  (appearing  at  the  door).  What 
would  you  have? 

THE  CHANCELLOR'S  WIFE.  I  want  to  see  the 
Chancellor. 

SECRETARY.  Impossible.  (About  to  shut  the 
door.) 

WIFE.  Tell  him  that  his  wife  is  waiting  here  for 
him. 

SECRETARY.     Oh,  pardon  me!     (Disappears.) 

WIFE  (raises  her  veil  and  looks  toward  the  door 
in  joyous  anticipation). 

THE  CHANCELLOR  (comes  out).  My  darling,  my 
precious.  You  here? 

WIFE  (throwing  her  arms  about  his  neck).  Oh, 
I  could  endure  it  no  longer,  not  to  see  you  for  twenty- 
four  hours ! 

CHANCELLOR.  The  question  is  of  supreme  im- 
portance. It  cannot  be  prolonged,  and  I  will  settle 
it  quickly,  like  a  true  servant  of  my  people. 

WIFE.  But  to  abandon  me  so?  Couldn't  you 
tear  yourself  away  for  a  moment  and  run  across  to 
me?  Is  this  our  honeymoon? 

CHANCELLOR.  My  darling,  you'll  have  to  forgive 
me.  I  am  performing  my  duty.  Even  now  I  shall 
have  to  send  you  away  at  once.  Thanks  for  having 
come.  You  brought  me  a  breath  of  happy  relief, 
and  now  I  shall  return  to  my  work  with  renewed  vigor. 
My  precious  love  — 


DIPLOMACY  123 

WIFE.  You  shall  not  dismiss  me  so  easily.  And  if 
you  do,  I  refuse  to  obey  you,  and  cling  tightly  to 
you !  Oh !  Not  to  have  seen  or  heard  you  for 
twenty-four  hours ! 

CHANCELLOR.  Did  I  not  feel  it,  too?  Did  it  not 
oppress  me,  likewise? 

WIFE.  No.  You  forget  me  entirely.  You're 
absorbed  altogether  in  your  faithfulness  to  the  peo- 
ple and  the  country,  and  your  young  wife  no  longer 
exists  for  you. 

CHANCELLOR.  You  mustn't  speak  like  that  to  me. 
You  yourself  don't  believe  what  you  say. 

WIFE.  On  the  contrary,  I  believe  it  firmly.  You 
value  your  duty  more  than  your  love. 

CHANCELLOR.  You  may  as  well  say  that  my  sleep, 
too,  is  more  to  me  than  my  love,  for  each  night  I 
leave  you  and  journey  off  to  far-away,  far-away 
slumberland  — 

WIFE.  Yes,  but  in  my  arms, —  at  my  side !  And 
often  I  watch  over  you  when  sleep  refuses  to  come 
to  me.  In  silence  I  enjoy  the  lines  of  your  face, 
and  suddenly  I  see  you  smile,  and  I  know  that  you 
are  smiling  to  me  in  your  dream,  and  then  I  fall 
asleep  so  happy !  .  .  .  Ah,  tonight  I  did  not  close 
my  eyes.  I  tossed  from  side  to  side  with  the  most 
uneasy  thoughts. 

CHANCELLOR.  My  poor  darling!  But  let  that 
be.  Once  my  burdensome  task  is  removed  from  my 
shoulders,  I'll  come  flying  to  you  as  on  the  wings  of 
an  eagle,  and  what  we  have  lost  today,  we'll  make  up 
for  tenfold.  Go  now,  my  love  — 


124  DIPLOMACY 

WIFE.  No,  I  will  not  go.  I  must  sit  with  you 
a  while.  Take  me  into  your  cabinet  with  you. 

CHANCELLOR.  Absolutely  impossible.  My  sec- 
retaries occupy  every  desk  and  chair.  And  more- 
over, they  themselves  have  not  been  home  for  the 
past  twenty-four  hours. 

WIFE.     And  their  wives  are  not — ? 

CHANCELLOR.  Allowed  to  come  here.  And  what 
is  not  permitted  to  my  secretaries  I  will  not  permit 
to  myself. 

WIFE.  But  I  am  already  here !  Come,  sit  down 
with  me  —  there  on  that  bench.  I'll  sit  down  be- 
side you,  feel  your  presence,  drink  in  the  sight  of 
you —  (Draws  him  to  the  bench.} 

CHANCELLOR.  Further  from  the  window;  they 
should  not  see  us  from  the  outside.  Otherwise  they'll 
besiege  me  again.  (Steals  a  glance  through  the  win- 
dow.) What  a  crowd!  The  whole  populace  has 
gathered  on  the  square.  It  is  impatient  and  will  be- 
come more  so.  It's  really  a  crime  for  me  to  be  sit- 
ing here  calmly  with  you. 

WIFE  (nestling  to  him).  Come,  come.  It  isn't 
yet  so  grave  as  all  that.  The  little  time  that  I'll 
steal  from  the  nation's  affairs,  it  may  well  grant 
me.  And  why  should  the  nation  be  more  important 
than  I?  Twenty-four  hours!  —  And  more:  the  na- 
tion has  robbed  me  of  you  entirely.  You're  sitting 
by  me  this  very  moment  as  if  on  pins  and  needles. 
You  neither  look  upon  me  nor  see  me.  You  hear 
my  words  but  your  thoughts  are  there  with  your  sec- 
retaries. 


DIPLOMACY  125 

CHANCELLOR  (arises  suddenly  and  looks  again 
stealthily  through  the  window).  What  a  seething 
commotion  outside !  What  burning  impatience ! 
The  populace  has  been  incensed  for  war  and  its  war 
spirit  grows  with  each  moment.  It  knows  not  why, 
nor  wherefore.  "  War !  War !  "  it  cries,  blinded, 
betrayed  by  robbers  that  seek  to  wax  richer  and 
richer.  War !  War !  Say  rather  Murder  and 
Blunder.  How  I  hate  every  war, —  the  most  shame- 
ful of  crimes !  They  seek  through  war  only  to  con- 
quer, to  fill  their  coffers,  to  aggrandize  themselves  at 
the  expense  of  the  vanquished.  That  is  what  the 
bands  of  robbers  desire  who  attack  the  citizens  of 
their  towns  or  the  peacefully-travelling  caravans  in 
the  desert.  And  if  the  robbers  are  criminals,  sure 
of  a  death-sentence,  when  caught,  why  is  not  the 
State  that  goes  forth  to  robbery  a  criminal?  Murder 
is  murder,  and  shall  I  be  a  murderer?  Shall  I  be  a 
tool  to  serve  the  end  of  plunderers? 

WIFE.  Oh,  my  love,  can't  you  forget  all  this  for 
a  while  and  belong  to  me  entirely  —  for  a  moment, 
for  the  smallest  moment?  (Nestles  closely  to  him.) 

CHANCELLOR  (as  if  suddenly  awakened,  embraces 
her  and  looks  at  her  with  a  penetrating  glance.) 
To  forget  for  a  moment  —  to  belong  to  you  — you ! 
(Takes  her  to  him  in  a  long,  passionate,  vehement 
'kiss.)  In  that  moment  I  was  yours  completely.  I 
was  (repeats  his  long  passionate  kiss),  yours  — 
completely.  And  now,  go.  And  know  that  it  is 
difficult  for  me  to  send  you  away.  (Hugs  her  closely 
to  him.)  Oh,  my  love,  my  love!  (Brings  his  head 


126  DIPLOMACY 

close  to  hers  and  remains  sitting  a  while  absorbed  m 
thought.)  Now  I  am  resolved. 

WIFE.     You  are  resolved? 

CHANCELLOR.     And  most  certainly. 

WIFE  (nestling  close  to  him,  coquettishly) .  Yes? 
And  what  is  it  about,  pray?  May  I  know? 

CHANCELLOR.     There  shall  be  no  war. 

WIFE  (disappointed).  Oh!  I  thought  you  were 
going  to  tell  me  of  your  love. 

CHANCELLOR.  And  I  have  made  to  you  the  great- 
est declaration  of  love.  Because  I  love  you  so  deeply, 
there  will  be  no  war.  How  could  I  have  gone  away 
from  your  embraces,  with  your  hot  kisses  upon  my 
lips,  and  myself  brimming  over  with  love,  even  as  the 
sea  inundates  the  shore,  and  sign  my  name  at  the  bot- 
tom of  a  war-decree,  and  send  forth  the  children  of 
my  people  to  deeds  of  blood  and  enmity  ?  No  !  No  ! 
—  Ah  —  Here  come  the  leaders  already.  Now  go. 
I'll  soon  come  to  you.  Come,  let  me  accompany  you 
down  a  little  way. 

WIFE  (draws  her  veil  over  her  face.  They  go 
down  the  stairs. —  The  four  leaders  come  up.) 

YELLOW.     Did  you  see? 

BLACK.     With  his  wife. 

YELLOW.  With  a  woman.  He  has  time  for  her, 
but  for  us  he  is  locked  in  his  cabinet.  I  believe  now 
is  the  time  for  us  to  demand  an  end  to  his  delays. 
We  are  unanimous,  the  people  are  restless.  He  may 
as  well  decide.  He  has  no  reason  to  prolong  his 
consideration. 

BLACK.     We  will  wait  no  longer  1 


DIPLOMACY  197 

BLUE.     No  !     We  wait  no  longer ! 

GEAY.  As  long  as  it's  war,  let's  have  it  as  soon 
as  possible !  (The  CHANCELLOR  returns.  The  four 
leaders  bow  to  him.  The  CHANCELLOR  replies  to 
them  m  similar  fashion  and  is  about  to  proceed  to 
his  cabinet.) 

YELLOW  AND  BLACK.     Your  Excellency! 

CHANCELLOR.     Gentlemen? 

YELLOW.     We  desire  to  know  the  outcome. 

BLACK.     Where  do  we  stand? 

BLUE.     War ! 

GRAY.  This  way  or  that,  but  an  end  to  all  this 
dallying ! 

CHANCELLOR.  You  have  all  spoken.  Whom  shall 
I  answer? 

YELLOW.     We  all  said  one  and  the  same  thing. 

CHANCELLOR.  The  Gray  wants  to  go  "  this  way 
or  that  "— 

YELLOW.  You  know  that  he  never  speaks  very 
clearly.  He  sides  with  us. 

CHANCELLOR.     And  all  of  you  desire  — ? 

YELLOW.     War ! 

BLACK.     A  Holy  War! 

BLUE.     War ! 

GRAY.     He  —  he!     War!     He  —  he! 

CHANCELLOR  (to  the  GRAY).     You,  too  —  war? 

GRAY.  The  Turanian  is  waging  war  against  the 
Tricker  —  and  we  send  merchandise  to  the  Tricker 
—  and  the  Turanian  seizes  our  donkeys. 

CHANCELLOR.     Well? 

GRAY.     So  we  want  war !     He-he ! 


128  DIPLOMACY 

YELLOW.  We  have  decided  that  /  shall  be  the 
spokesman. 

CHANCELLOR.  Shall  I  not  be  permitted  to  speak 
to  whom  I  wish?  But  it  makes  no  difference.  So 
then,  you  insist  on  war? 

YELLOW.  Most  certainly.  If  we  have  not  yet 
made  clear  to  you  our  views,  which  are  the  views  of 
the  people,  then  I  can  make  them  clearer  to  you  now. 

CHANCELLOR.     Not  necessary. 

YELLOW.     I  will  be  brief. 

CHANCELLOR.  Was  the  merchandise  that  you  sent 
to  the  Tricker  paid  for? 

YELLOW.  I'm  not  talking  about  the  merchandise. 
But  the  Turanian  seized  our  donkeys  that  carried  the 
merchandise. 

CHANCELLOR.     And  therefore,  war? 

YELLOW.  Not  exactly  therefore,  but  that  is  a 
reason. 

CHANCELLOR.  Oh,  I  know !  I  know  !  The  Tur- 
anian is  becoming  too  powerful.  His  wings  must  be 
clipped. 

BLACK.     He  must  be  converted  to  our  faith. 

BLUE.     Why  have  we  an  army,  I'd  like  to  know? 

GRAY.  Let  it  be  war,  and  an  end  to  this  uncer- 
tainty. 

YELLOW.  Your  Excellency,  the  people  are  impa- 
tient. 

CHANCELLOR.     You  made  them  impatient. 

YELLOW.     We  want  to  know  your  decision. 

CHANCELLOR.     You  have  already  decided  for  me. 

YELLOW.     Do  you  agree? 


DIPLOMACY  129 

CHANCELLOR.  I  shall  let  you  know  in  writing. 
Everything  must  be  done  in  orderly  fashion  and  in 
accordance  with  the  rules. 

YELLOW.     Why  this  comedy? 

CHANCELLOR  (sternly).     This  comedy? 

YELLOW.  You've  come  to  a  decision  already  — 
I  can  see  that  clearly. 

CHANCELLOR.  Very  well.  I'll  tell  it  to  you. 
(Looks  at  the  leaders  sharply  and  penetratingly,  and 
maintains  a  prolonged  silence  as  if  he  took  pleasure 
in  trying  their  patience,  their  expectancy.  Then  he 
speaks  in  a  calm  voice.)  There  shall  be  no  war. 

YELLOW.     No  war? 

BLACK.     No  war? 

BLUE.     What? 

GRAY.     He-he ! 

YELLOW.     The  whole  nation  demands  war. — 

CHANCELLOR.  You  criminally  talked  it  into  fav- 
oring war. 

YELLOW.  The  whole  nation  cries  war  and  you 
shall  not  oppose  it. 

CHANCELLOR.  I  am  here  to  rule  the  nation,  not 
to  be  ruled  by  it. 

YELLOW.  You  are  here  to  execute  only  what  the 
people  want  and  command. 

CHANCELLOR.  I  am  here  to  lead  the  people  and 
to  defend  it  from  misleaders. 

YELLOW.  You're  playing  with  fire,  Your  Excel- 
lency ! 

BLUE.     Ha-ha ! 

CHANCELLOR.     You  threaten  me? 


130  DIPLOMACY 

YELLOW.  The  nation  wants  war  and  no  one  can 
restrain  the  people  from  waging  it. 

CHANCELLOR.  The  time  of  your  unexpected  visit, 
gentlemen,  is  up.  Go  tell  the  people. — 

YELLOW.  I'll  tell  it  at  once,  and  if  you  wish,  you 
may  hear  how  it  receives  the  news  from  me.  (Hur- 
ries to  a  window,  raises  it  and  shouts.)  Hear! 
Hear !  (A  loud  commotion  is  heard  m  the  square, 
like  the  din  of  a  tempestuous  sea.  Cries  are  dis- 
tinguished. "  Quiet!  "  .  .  .  "  Silence!  "...  Finally 
the  dim,  subsides.}  Hear!  The  Chancellor  has  at 
last  decided — (A  loud  hurrah  arises  from  the  popu- 
lace. )  Wait !  Wait !  Listen  till  I  have  finished ! 
(Motions  to  the  crowd  to  keep  stitt.  BLACK,  BLUE 
and  GRAY  do  likewise.) 

GRAY  (with  awkward  gestures).  Hush!  Hush! 
Hush!  Quiet!  Silence!  (Cries  from  outside.) 
"  Quiet !  "  —  "  Silence !  "  — 

YELLOW.  The  Chancellor  has  decreed  war  — 
(Outside  the  cheering  grows  louder  than  ever.  En- 
thusiastic cries  are  heard:  "  War!  War!  War!  " 
The  YELLOW  waves  his  hands  to  the  crowd,  asking 
for  silence.)  No!  No!  Hear  me  out! 

BLACK  (to  the  CHANCELLOR).     Do  you  see? 

CHANCELLOR  (laughs  scornfully,  shaking  his  head. 
Outside,  cries  of  "Quiet!"  "Silence!" — The  din 
subsides). 

YELLOW  (shouting  at  the  top  of  his  lungs).  War 
shall  not  be  declared !  (Outside  —  a  dead  silence,  as 
if  the  hearers  did  not  believe  their  own  ears.) 

BLACK  (bends  his  ear  in  the  direction  of  the  square, 


DIPLOMACY  131 

and  raises  his  finger  with  deep  significance).  The 
calm  before  the  storm. 

YELLOW  (shouting).  The  Chancellor  does  not 
want  the  war.  The  Turanian's  friendship  is  more  to 
him  than  the  will  of  his  people.  (A  storm  of  shouts 
comes  from  the  square.) 

CHANCELLOR.  That  is  provocation !  I'll  order 
his  arrest ! 

YELLOW  (shouting).  Come  up!  The  Chancellor 
is  here  with  us !  You  can  hear  it  clearly  from  his 
own  lips! 

CHANCELLOR.  That  is  an  invitation  to  bloodshed. 
The  guards  outside  will  use  their  weapons.  You  will 
answer  to  me  for  this !  The  blood  will  fall  upon 
your  own  head. 

YELLOW.  I  assume  full  responsibility.  (Sounds 
of  struggle  come  from  the  entrance  below,  and  at 
length  a  multitude  of  YELLOWS,  BLACKS,  BLUES  and 
GRAYS  rush  up  the  stairs.  They  advance  close  to 
the  CHANCELLOR,  before  whom  they  stand  with  men- 
acing cries.  "  War!  War!  War! "  The  doors 
of  the  CHANCELLOR'S  rooms  open  and  his  secretaries 
appear.) 

CHANCELLOR  (to  the  crowd).  Silence!  —  Do  you 
think  that  you  will  intimidate  me  with  your  cries  and 
your  tumult?  What  opinion  would  you  hold  of  a 
Chancellor  who  would  let  himself  be  frightened  by 
such  a  wild  onrush  and  bow  to  you  at  once  in  weak- 
kneed  submission?  But  you  shall  not  frighten  me, 
and  I  will  carry  out  what  I  have  decided  best  for  the 
interests  of  our  land. 


132  DIPLOMACY 

THE  CROWD  (with  an  outburst).  War!  War! 
War! 

CHANCELLOR.  Silence !  Remember  before  whom 
you  stand.  If  you  would  speak  with  me  and  hear  my 
reply,  then  cease  this  shouting  and  acting  like  wild 
beasts. 

THE  CROWD.     War!     War!     War! 

CHANCELLOR.  Have  you  heard  my  grounds  for 
opposing  the  war?  You  know  that  I  have  surrend- 
ered myself  completely  to  the  critical  issue,  and  that 
for  the  past  twenty-four  hours  — 

YELLOW.     Ha-ha-ha ! 

CHANCELLOR  (furious).  What  are  you  laughing 
at? 

YELLOW  (insolently).  At  your  twenty-four 
hours. 

CHANCELLOR.     What? 

YELLOW  (shouting).  He  surrendered  himself 
completely  here  —  to  a  woman  ! 

CHANCELLOR.      Scoundrel ! 

YELLOW.  Didn't  you  see  the  woman  that  went 
down  from  here  before? 

VOICES.  Yes !  Yes  !  Of  course !  We  saw  her ! 
Ha-ha-ha ! 

CHANCELLOR.  Would  you  have  me  defend  myself 
against  that,  too?  You  all  know  that  my  wife  — 
( With  an  angry  outburst.)  Out  of  here!  Out! 
Let  not  a  trace  of  you  remain  here !  I'll  call  the 
guards  — 

VOICES.  They're  lying  downstairs  all  trampled 
over,  bound  hand  and  foot. 


DIPLOMACY  133 

CHANCELLOR.  This  is  revolt!  This  is  revolu- 
tion ! 

YELLOW.     It  is  the  will  of  the  people. 

BLACK.     And  of  God. 

YELLOW.     Sign   the   proclamation  of  war,   or  — 

CHANCELLOR  (with  an  outcry).  I  am  no  longer 
your  Chancellor!  Wage  the  war  yourself!  Plunge 
your  country  into  wrack  and  ruin.  Do  the  people's 
will  —  I  will  not  share  in  it.  But  I  will  expose 
you,  and  will  prove  to  the  people  that  you  imposed 
your  will  upon  them.  I  will  — 

YELLOW.  This  is  treason !  He  is  a  traitor  !  He 
has  been  bought  by  the  Turanian ! 

CHANCELLOR.     Scoundrel ! 

YELLOW.  He  abandons  the  guidance  of  the  na- 
tion in  such  a  grave  moment  and  even  attempts  to  in- 
cite them  against  the  leaders  of  the  land.  What  will 
the  enemy  say  ?  He  will  laugh  up  his  sleeve !  We 
are  split.  We  lack  unity,  and  he  need  not  fear  us. 
Now  he  may  do  with  us  as  he  pleases.  Yesterday  he 
seized  our  donkeys,  tomorrow  he'll  seize  our  land. — 
He  has  been  bought  by  the  Turanian  ! 

THE  CROWD.      So  that's  it?     Is  that  so? 

YELLOW.  You  see,  he  has  nothing  to  say  in  his 
defense.  His  very  eyes  glow  with  treason.  Aha! 
That  explains  why  he  was  seen  the  night  before  last 
with  the  Turanian's  ambassador  at  the  backstairs 
of  his  palace ! 

THE  CROWD  (looking  at  each  other  perplexedly). 
Ah !  Ah !  Ah ! 

GRAY   (placing  his  heavy  hand  upon  the  CHAN- 


134  DIPLOMACY 

CELLOE'S  shoulder).  So  that's  the  kind  of  man  you 
are? 

BLACK.     The  traitor  must  meet  a  traitor's  end ! 

YELLOW.  Lead  him  out  before  all  our  people. 
Let  all  the  people  know  what  their  ruler  really  was. 

VOICES.     Lead  him  out !     Lead  him  out  ! 

GRAY.     Come,  brother ! 

BLUE.  Clap  the  fool's  cap  over  his  head !  String 
bells  around  his  neck !  Traitor ! 

VOICES.  Death  to  the  Traitor!  Traitor! 
Traitor!  {Shouts,  jeers,  whistling.) 

BLACK.  The  voice  of  the  people  is  the  voice  of 
God.  Amen. 


CUETAIN 


LITTLE  HEROES 
A  War  Episode 


PERSONS 

A  FOURTEEN-YEAR-OLD  BOY 
A  THIRTEEN-YEAR-OLD 
FIRST  TWELVE- YEAR-OLD 
SECOND  TWELVE-YEAR-OLD 
AN  ELEVEN-YEAR-OLD 
A  TEN-YEAR-OLD 

TIME:     The  Present. 

PLACE  :     A  devastated  village  in  a  belligerent  and 
invaded  nation. 


LITTLE  HEROES 

A  large  living-room  in  a  peasant's  house,  which  has 
been  much  damaged  by  the  cannonading.  A  bomb 
has  crashed  through  the  roof  and  the  ceiling  and 
made  a  huge  hole  in  the  floor.  The  walls  are  per- 
forated with  bulletholes,  the  windows  smashed,  the 
doors  loosened  from  their  hinges.  Here  and  there 
scattered  bits  of  furniture  that  has  been  shot  to 
pieces;  only  a  long  sofa  and  two  chairs  have  es- 
caped destruction. 

THE  FOURTEEN-YEAR-OLD  enters,  looks  about  him 
with  a  rapt,  yet  angry  expression,  and  stamps  his 
foot.  From  between  his  tightly-drawn  lips  he  ut- 
ters a  suppressed  cry  of  scorn,  points  a  menacing 
fist  at  the  shattered  windows  and  the  wall  at  the 
rear,  as  if  at  an  enemy  in  the  distance,  on  whom  he 
would  wreak  vengeance. 

FIRST  TWELVE-YEAR-OLD  {appears  at  the  door, 
and  stops  in  consternation).  Oh!  This  is  worse 
than  at  my  house! 

THE  FOURTEEN-YEAR-OLD.     Where  are  they  all? 

FIRST  TWELVE- YEAR-OLD.  I  don't  know.  Didn't 
see  'em.  {Enters,  looks  into  the  hole  m  the  floor, 
then  at  the  gap  in  the  ceiling.)  Right  through. 

137 


138  LITTLE  HEROES 

You  can  see  the  sky.  That  must  have  been  a  giant 
bomb !  —  Where  did  it  strike  your  mother? 

THE  FOURTEEN-YEAR-OLD.  Where?  Every- 
where at  once !  She  was  simply  torn  to  shreds. 

FIRST  TWELVE-YEAR-OLD.  I  mean,  what  part  of 
the  house  was  she  in  when  it  came? 

THE  FOURTEEN-YEAR-OLD.  She  was  standing 
right  here  near  the  closet. 

FIRST  TWELVE- YEAR-OLD.  And  the  closet  was 
smashed,  too? 

THE  FOURTEEN-YEAR-OLD.  Can't  you  see? 
Knocked  to  bits ! 

FIRST  TWELVE- YEAR-OLD  (looking  about).  All 
the  furniture !  (Sees  the  sofa,  and  thumps  it  here 
and  there  with  his  fist,  as  if  testing  its  strength.) 
At  my  house,  too  — 

THE  FOURTEEN-YEAR-OLD  (interrupting,  with  a 
touch  of  scorn).  I  know.  Didn't  I  see?  ... 
Hardly  a  thing  touched,  no  damage  at  all. 

FIRST  TWELVE- YEAR-OLD.  Why!  A  whole  wall 
was  crushed,  and  our  chimney,  and  the  shed  burned 
down,  and  our  dog  was  killed  and  his  kennel  shot  to 
pieces,  and  grandma  died  of  fright. 

THE  FOURTEEN-YEAR-OLD  (looking  out  of  the 
window).  They  must  have  started  a  game  of  ball. 

FIRST  TWELVE- YEAR-OLD.  Nobody  plays  ball 
these  days. 

THE  FOURTEEN- YEAR-OLD.  Well,  something  else, 
then. 

FIRST  TWELVE- YEAR-OLD.  Nobody  plays  any- 
thing at  all  now.  I  play  all  by  myself.  I  feel  so 


LITTLE  HEROES  139 

sad.     I  hide  behind   the  house   and  play  marbles. 

THE  FOURTEEN-YEAR-OLD.     You  big  baby! 

FIRST  TWELVE- Y.EAR-OLD.  I'm  not  a  baby !  But 
I  feel  so  sad,  and  I'm  awfully  hungry,  too.  Haven't 
you  a  crumb  of  bread  around  here? 

THE  FOURTEEN- YEAR-OLD.  Ruins,  that's  what 
we've  got. 

FIRST  TWELVE-YEAR-OLD.  They  went  to  the 
enemy  to  ask  for  bread. 

THE  FOURTEEN- YEAR-OLD.     What  a  disgrace! 

FIRST  TWELVE-YEAR-OLD.  They're  all  so  hungry. 
Aren't  you  hungry? 

THE  FOURTEEN-YEAR-OLD.  I  won't  touch  the 
enemy's  bread ! 

FIRST  TWELVE- YEAR-OLD.  Your  father  hasn't 
been  killed  yet  in  the  war.  My  father  was  shot  in  the 
stomach.  (Turns  to  the  THIRTEEN-YEAR-OLD  and 
the  SECOND  TWELVE- YEAR-OLD,  who  have  just  come 
in).  Just  see  how  the  cannon  shot  right  through  the 
ceiling  and  through  the  floor ! 

THE  FOURTEEN- YEAR-OLD  (to  the  new  arrivals). 
And  that's  what  you  call  coming  right  away? 

THE  THIRTEEN-YEAR-OLD  (gazing  into  the  hole). 
Ooh !  What  a  hole ! 

SECOND  TWELVE- YEAR-OLD.  What  a  shot  that 
must  have  been ! 

FIRST  TWELVE-YEAR-OLD.  Right  through  and 
through.  And  tore  his  mother  to  bits.  And 
smashed  all  the  furniture.  Just  look  at  the  pieces ! 

THE  THIRTEEN-YEAR-OLD  ( taking  a  seat  upon  the 
sofa).  I  had  to  stay  with  my  little  sister.  She 


140  LITTLE  HEROES 

won't  stop  crying,  she's  so  hungry.  I  put  my  finger 
in  her  mouth.  My  t  How  she  sucked  it  t 

SECOND  TWELVE- YEAR-OLD.  My  mother  has  one 
fainting-spell  after  another.  I  had  to  steal  away. 

THE  ELEVEN-YEAR-OLD  (enters,  holding  the  TEN- 
YEAR-OLD  by  the  hand).  Bah!  I  could  barely  drag 
along  with  him  to  take  care  of. 

THE  TEN-YEAR-OLD.  Why  should  I  run?  To 
get  more  hungry? 

THE  ELEVEN-YEAR-OLD.  Ooh  my!  What  a 
hole! 

THE  TEN-YEAR-OLD.     If  it  rains,  it'll  rain  in. 

THE  THIRTEEN-YEAR-OLD.  You  don't  say  so. 
(To  the  FOURTEEN-YEAR-OLD,  who  is  excited,  and 
paces  back  and  forth  amid  the  ruins.)  You've  called 
together  a  regular  meeting! 

THE  FOURTEEN-YEAR-OLD.  That's  just  what. 
I  have  a  plan,  and  I  need  helpers. 

THE  THIRTEEN-YEAR-OLD  (stretching  out  at  full 
length  upon  the  sofa).  He  has  a  plan  and  he  needs 
helpers. 

THE  ELEVEN- YEAR-OLD  (sits  down  at  the  edge  of 
the  hole  in  the  floor  and  dangles  his  feet  within). 
What  a  big  hole ! 

FIRST  TWELVE- YEAR-OLD  (sits  down  beside  the 
ELEVEN-YEAR-OLD  ) . 

SECOND  TWELVE- YEAR-OLD  (about  to  follow  suit, 
but  changes  his  mind  and  takes  a  chair). 

THE  TEN- YEAR-OLD  (lies  down  on  the  floor,  his 
head  pillowed  against  a  pile  of  debris). 

THE         FOURTEEN-YEAR-OLD         (passionately). 


LITTLE  HEROES  141 

Aren't  we  now  the  only  men  left  in  the  village?  The 
old  folks  are  only  old  folks,  after  all.  They  can't 
march.  Can't  fight.  If  it  comes  to  a  battle,  what 
good  are  they?  And  the  women  are  only  women. 
They're  certainly  not  men.  And  the  girls  surely 
ain't  men,  either.  So  we're  the  only  men!  Are  we 
going  to  stand  by  like  the  little  girls  and  keep  on 
playing  with  dolls? 

FIRST  TWELVE- YEAR-OLD.  They  aren't  playing 
with  dolls  now.  They're  crying. 

THE  FOURTEEN- YEAR-OLD.  Well,  are  we  going  to 
sit  and  cry?  Are  we  going  to  be  'f raid-cats  and  cry- 
babies ?  We're  young  boys,  fellows,  men.  Isn't  that 
so? 

THE  TEN-YEAR-OLD.     Sure.     But  I  want  to  eat. 

THE  FOURTEEN-YEAR-OLD.  The  enemy  is  com- 
ing further  and  further  into  our  country.  Our  army 
is  retreating  before  it.  The  enemy  is  capturing  one 
village  after  the  other ;  one  city  after  another.  Soon 
he'll  take  over  our  whole  nation  altogether.  So  that 
we've  got  to  do  something  about  it !  Is  that  right, 
or  not! 

THE  ELEVEN-YEAR-OLD.     Sure  it's  right ! 

THE  THIRTEEN-YEAR-OLD.  And  what  shall  we 
do? 

SECOND  TWELVE-YEAR-OLD.  I've  counted  thirty- 
seven  bullet-holes  in  the  wall. 

THE  FOURTEEN-YEAR-OLD.  Aren't  we  to  the  rear 
of  the  enemy?  Isn't  that  so?  Aren't  we  behind 
their  lines? 

THE  ELEVEN- YEAR-OLD.     Naturally  we're  behind 


142  LITTLE  HEROES 

their  lines.  They've  already  marched  thirty  miles 
further  into  the  country. 

THE  FOURTEEN-YEAR-OLD.  Then  we  can  do  a 
good  deal  against  them. 

THE  ELEVEN- YEAR-OLD  (diffidently).  Naturally. 
A  good  deal. 

THE  THIRTEEN-YEAR-OLD.  One  speaks  and  the 
other  repeats,  just  like  a  parrot. 

THE  ELEVEN-YEAR-OLD  (more  firmly  and  boldly). 
Naturally  !  A  good  deal ! 

SECOND  TWELVE-YEAR-OLD.  My !  What  a  shot 
that  must  have  been!  Bang!  Through  the  roof, 
the  ceiling,  the  floor !  Whizz  ! 

THE  TEN-YEAR-OLD.     Near  us,  too,  there  was  — 

THE  FOURTEEN-YEAR-OLD  (to  the  THIRTEEN- 
YEAR-OLD,  vehemently).  Can  you  shinney  up  a  high 
pole  ? 

THE  THIRTEEN-YEAR-OLD.     Better  than  you. 

FIRST  TWELVE-YEAR-OLD.  So  can  I.  Just  like 
a  cat. 

THE  ELEVEN- YEAR-OLD.  I  can  do  it  better  than 
all  of  you. 

THE  FOURTEEN-YEAR-OLD.  Then  one  of  us  is  to 
climb  up  a  telegraph  pole  and  cut  the  wires. 

THE  THIRTEEN-YEAR-OLD.  Mm !  But  you're 
extravagant ! 

THE  FOURTEEN-YEAR-OLD.  We'll  go  out  three 
together,  or  four.  That's  why  I  need  helpers. 

THE  THIRTEEN-YEAR-OLD.  Don't  forget  that  at 
every  telegraph  pole  there's  a  soldier  with  a  gun. 

THE' FOURTEEN-YEAR-OLD  (taking  a  sharp  knife 


LITTLE  HEROES  143 

from  under  his  coat).  And  what's  this  for,  then? 
(The  youthful  group  stares  at  the  knife). 

THE  ELEVEN-YEAR-OLD.  We've  got  a  nice  big 
kitchen-knife,  too. 

THE  TEN-YEAR-OLD.  But  we've  got  nothing  to 
cut  with  it. 

THE  FOURTEEN-YEAR-OLD.  You're  all  of  you  to 
provide  yourselves  with  knives  like  this,  and  at  night, 
when  if'S  pitch  dark,  we're  to  crawl,  on  our  bellies,  up 
behind  the  guard,  stab  him  in  the  heart,  climb  up  the 
pole  and  cut  the  wires. 

THE  ELEVEN-YEAR-OLD.  Here's  how  we'll  do  it. 
(Crawls  carefully  over  the  floor.)  And  then,  Zip! 
(Makes  a  violent  thrust  into  the  air,  as  if  into  an 
enemy.)  Then,  up  the  pole,  up,  up.  (Springs  up 
from  the  floor  and  imitates  climbing.) 

THE  TEN-YEAR-OLD.  And  on  the  murdered  sol- 
dier we'll  find  some  bread. 

THE  THIRTEEN- YEAR-OLD.  But  supposing  the 
soldier  sees  us  or  hears  us? 

THE  FOURTEEN-YEAR-OLD.  He  mustn't  see  us  or 
hear  us.  We'll  do  it  quietly,  ever  so  quietly. 

THE  TEN-YEAR-OLD.  I  can  crawl  as  softly  —  as 
a  worm.  And  I'll  take  our  big  sharp  knife  —  but 
I'm  awfully  hungry.  I  want  to  eat ! 

THE  THIRTEEN-YEAR-OLD.  And  a  soldier  wears 
thick  clothes ! 

SECOND  TWELVE- YEAR-OLD.  They  wear  armor. 
That's  what  they  say.  Made  out  of  tin.  On 
their  chests.  So  that  a  bullet  can't  go  through. 

FIRST  TWELVE- YEAR-OLD.     Well  then,  we'll  aim 


144  LITTLE  HEROES 

our  knives  at  their  stomachs,  or  their  necks,  or  their 
eyes. 

THE  ELEVEN-YEAR-OLD.  We  could  even  stab  one 
in  the  knee.  Crawl  up  quietly,  so  quietly  and  — 
slash!  Right  into  his  knee,  so  that  his  foot'll  come 
off. 

THE  FOURTEEN-YEAR-OLD.  Exactly.  And  make 
a  good  job  of  it.  Just  let  him  fall,  badly  wounded, 
and  we'll  make  an  end  of  him. 

THE  TEN-YEAR-OLD.  And  take  all  his  food  away 
from  him. 

THE  FOURTEEN- YEAR-OLD.  In  that  way  we  can 
kill  a  good  many  guards  and  cut  a  good  deal  of  tele- 
graph and  telephone  wires.  That'll  help  our  sol- 
diers. 

THE  ELEVEN-YEAR-OLD.  The  less  soldiers  the 
enemy  has,  the  better  for  our  side. 

THE  FOURTEEN-YEAR-OLD.  And  with  all  the  tele- 
graph and  telephone  wires  cut,  the  enemy  won't  know 
where  in  the  world  he  is. 

THE  ELEVEN-YEAR-OLD.  And  then  our  men  will 
give  the  enemy  such  a  beating,  that  he  won't  know 
what's  happening  to  him.  And  then  he'll  run  away. 

THE  TEN-YEAR-OLD.  And  we'll  have  lots  of  bread 
again. 

SECOND  TWELVE- YEAR-OLD.  The  enemy  has 
heaps  of  food.  Did  you  see  all  the  provision  wagons 
go  by?  I  counted  forty-four.  And  did  you  see  that 
big  field-kitchen? 

THE  TEN-YEAR-OLD  (utters  a  brief  sigh,  as  if  the 


LITTLE  HEROES  145 

field-kitchen  and  the  provision-wagons  had  in-spired 
savory  recollections}. 

THE  FOURTEEN-YEAR-OLD  (trembling  with  emo- 
tion). But  all  that  is  nothing.  We  can  do  much 
more.  (Looks  around,  to  see  whether  some  eaves- 
dropper be  listening,  and  then  continues  in  tones  of 
secrecy.)  In  the  nobleman's  house  the  enemy's  Com- 
mander-in-chief has  made  his  headquarters.  He  has 
in  his  possession  all  the  enemy's  plans.  We'll  steal 
into  the  house  —  at  midnight  —  when  he's  fast  asleep 
—  kill  him  and  steal  his  plans.  Once  that's  accom- 
plished, then  it's  all  up  with  the  enemy. 

THE  ELEVEN-YEAR-OLD.  My !  My !  But  that's 
a  cracker  jack  scheme! 

FIRST  TWELVE-YEAR-OLD  (in  glee).  Gee!  The 
commander-in-chief !  —  To  kill  him — (Embraces  the 
ELEVEN- YEAR-OLD  and  together  they  roll  around 
joyously). 

THE  THIRTEEN-YEAR-OLD  (with  ironic  laughter). 
Ha,  ha !  They're  going  to  murder  the  commander- 
in-chief  !  Why,  he's  surrounded  by  generals  and 
officers  and  soldiers ! 

THE  FOURTEEN- YEAR-OLD.  Makes  no  difference. 
That's  what  we  must  do. 

THE  THIRTEEN-YEAR-OLD.  First  prove  that  you 
can  steal  up  behind  a  guard  at  a  telegraph  pole! 

THE  FOURTEEN-YEAR-OLD.     We  certainly  will. 

THE  ELEVEN- YEAR-OLD.     You  bet ! 

THE  THIRTEEN-YEAR-OLD.  Then  you'll  all  be  in 
heaven  soon,  that's  all  I  say. 


146  LITTLE  HEROES 

THE  FOURTEEN-YEAR-OLD.  You're  a  common 
coward,  that's  what  you  are ! 

THE  THIRTEEN-YEAR-OLD.  You  mean  I'm 
smarter  than  you ;  that's  what  you  mean. 

THE  FOURTEEN-YEAR-OLD.     You're  a  traitor! 

THE  ELEVEN-YEAR-OLD.  The  betrayer!  We 
ought  to  kill  him  altogether. 

THE  THIRTEEN-YEAR-OLD.  I'm  no  traitor !  I'm 
hungry,  that's  all  I  am !  I  want  to  eat !  I  haven't 
had  a  bite  in  two  days. 

THE  FOURTEEN-YEAR-OLD.  I'm  just  as  hungry 
as  you.  We're  all  hungry. 

SECOND  TWELVE-YEAR-OLD.  My  mother  keeps 
on  fainting  from  hunger.  Yesterday  she  gave  us  the 
last  piece  of  bread  in  the  house.  She  herself  hasn't 
eaten  for  two  days.  But  I'm  fearfully  hungry,  just 
the  same. 

FIRST  TWELVE- YEAR-OLD.  I'm  terribly  hungry, 
too.  But  I  don't  pay  any  attention  to  it. 

THE  ELEVEN-YEAR-OLD.  Neither  do  I.  I  turn 
my  tongue  in  my  mouth  and  chew  it.  And  it  feels 
just  like  eating.  (Pointing  to  the  TEN- YEAR-OLD.) 
I  told  him  to  do  it,  too. 

THE  TEN-YEAR-OLD.  My  tongue  can't  turn  any 
more.  (  Whimpering. )  I  want  to  eat. 

THE  FOURTEEN-YEAR-OLD.  We  are  all  hungry. 
Just  the  same  we  can  do  something  for  our  side. 

THE  THIRTEEN-YEAR-OLD  (succumbing  to  tears, 
and  rubbing  his  palms  over  his  chest  and  his 
stomach).  I'm  hungry.  My  insides  —  are  so  hol- 
low—  and  I  feel  so  faint.  I'll  die  of  hunger. 


LITTLE  HEROES  147 

THE  TEN-YEAR-OLD  (breaks  into  tears,  sobbing). 

THE  ELEVEN-YEAR-OLD  (slapping  him).  There 
he  goes!  Crying!  (Begins  whimpering  himself.) 
Cry-baby !  Cry-baby ! 

SECOND  TWELVE-YEAR-OLD.  My  mother'll  die  of 
hunger.  Perhaps  she's  dead  already.  (Bursts  into 
tears.) 

FIRST  TWELVE-YEAR-OLD  (tearfully).  I'm  get- 
ting hungry  myself  now.  I  wasn't  paying  any  at- 
tention to  it,  but  now  they  made  me  hungry.  (Sinks 
down  to  the  floor  and  weeps.  All  except  the  FOUR- 
TEEN-YEAR-OLD are  now  crying.  Deep,  restrained 
sobs  betray  their  inconsolable  misery.) 

THE  FOURTEEN- YEAR-OLD.  They're  all  crying! 
Just  look  at  them,  there  —  the  cry-babies !  A  fine 
lot  you  are  to  accomplish  anything  with!  Stop  it! 
Stop  crying,.!  say!  Oh!  (Brandishes  his  knife  as 
if  he  would  gladly  stab  some  one,  finally  flmgs  it 
vehemently  away,  sinks  into  the  empty  chair,  hiding 
his  face  in  his  arm,  and  his  sobs  are  soon  heard  with 
those  of  the  others). 


CURTAIN 


THE  BEAUTIFUL  NUN 

A  Drama  m  One  Act 
[Written  in  June,  1919] 


PERSONS 

THE  ABBESS 
SISTER,  ERNESTINA 
SISTER  AUDACIA 
SISTER  HEDWIG 
FIRST  SOLDIER 
SECOND  SOLDIER 

The  action  takes  place  in  time  of  war 


THE  BEAUTIFUL  NUN 

The  small  chapel  of  a  nunnery.  Before  the  image  of 
the  Holy  Virgin  burns  the  perpetual  lamp;  at  the 
foot  of  the  image  kneel  the  ABBESS  and  SISTERS 
ERNESTINA  and  AUDACIA. — From  without  comes 
the  booming  of  cannon. 

ABBESS.  Holy  Virgin,  count  it  not  as  a  sin 
against  us  that  none  of  the  sisters  could  be  found  to 
risk  her  life  and  her  honor,  and  remain  here  to  tend 
the  perpetual  lamp.  How  gladly  would  I  myself  stay 
behind,  were  it  not  my  duty  to  lead  all  the  sisters  to 
safety.  You  know  that  I  would  willingly  have  done 
so, —  you  who  see  deep  into  our  hearts.  And  you 
would  guard  me  here,  you  would  have  warded  me  from 
all  evil,  and  no  harm  would  befall  me.  (Crosses  her- 
self and  arises. ) 

THE  SISTERS  (arise). 

ABBESS.  Will  none  of  you  then  remain  under  the 
secure  protection  of  our  Holy  Virgin  ?  Sister  Ernes- 
tina,  you  who  are  so  old  in  years  and  strong  in  faith? 

SISTER  ERNESTINA.  Gladly  would  I  remain  here. 
I  know  that  the  burden  of  years  is  a  great  protection 
for  a  lone  woman,  and  surely  the  hand  of  the  Holy 
Mother  is  an  even  greater  protection.  But  who 

knows  the  savage  enemy  in  all  his  godlessness  and 

151 


152  THE  BEAUTIFUL  NUN 

wantonness?  He  acknowledges  neither  God  nor  the 
Holy  Mother,  nor  does  he  recognize  age.  I  should 
not  wish  my  many  years  to  be  sullied  by  criminal 
lust.  Pardon  me,  mother,  and  let  me  go  with  you. 

ABBESS.  I  can  only  say  that  you  are  childish  and 
that  God  is  not  strong  within  you,  Sister  Ernestina. 
I  will  not  force  you  to  remain  here.  Force  is  an 
evil  service  to  the  Lord.  The  Holy  Mother  asks 
only  love;  she  would  be  served  by  love.  Will  you 
not  show  her  that  love-service,  Sister  Audacia?  You 
may  assume  the  office  and  remain  here  in  all  security. 
You  know  how  very  ugly  you  are.  And  your  ugli- 
ness, together  with  God's  help,  will  furnish  you  even 
greater  protection. 

AUDACIA.  I  know  that  I  have  ever  thanked  God 
I  was  not  born  with  the  proud  heart  that  comes  from 
the  beautiful  face.  But  never  did  I  know  I  was  as 
ugly  as  all  that. 

ABBESS.  I  wish  I  had  a  mirror  here.  If  you  could 
see  how  you  look  now  you  would  yourself  fall  in  a 
swoon  and  for  many  a  day  be  unable  to  take  a  crumb 
in  your  mouth  for  nausea.  You  came  to  the  nun- 
nery to  hide  from  the  sight  of  a  mirror. 

AUDACIA.  Beauty  is  always  merely  a  matter  of 
taste.  How  do  you  know  the  taste  of  the  enemy's 
soldiery  ? 

ABBESS.  Fie  !  You  must  not  remain  here.  You 
will  beam  with  pride  if  the  beasts  attack  you. 

AUDACIA.  You  should  not  say  that.  Can  you 
not  see  that  I  desire  to  leave? 

ABBESS.     Yes.     Talk  is  useless. —  Holy  Mother ! 


THE  BEAUTIFUL  NUN  153 

(Crosses  herself  piously.  ERNESTINA  and  AUDACIA 
do  likewise.  Then  they  all  turn  toward  the  door.) 

SISTER  HEDWIG  (appears  in  the  doorway.  She  is 
very  beautiful.  The  modest  nun's  garb  enhances  her 
beauty). 

ABBESS  (unable  to  suppress  a  cry  of  amazement). 
Sister  Hedwig,  what  are  you  doing  here?  You 
should  have  been  among  the  first  to  leave.  Why  have 
you  brought  your  beauty  here?  Be  off  at  once! 
The  enemy  is  already  before  the  gates. 

HEDWIG  (entering  the  chapel).  I  will  remain 
here. 

ABBESS.     What? 

ERNESTINA  and  AUDACIA  (cross  themselves). 

HEDWIG.  I  will  remain  here  to  guard  the  church 
and  to  tend  the  perpetual  lamp. 

ABBESS.     Are  you  in  your  right  senses,  sister? 

ERNESTINA.     She  is  certainly  out  of  her  mind. 

AUDACIA.  That  comes  from  her  great  beauty, 
which  all  have  praised  so  much  that  her  head  has  been 
turned. 

HEDWIG.  You  have  read  it  aright,  Sister  Audacia. 
It  comes  to  me  from  my  great  beauty,  but  not  because 
my  head  has  been  turned.  God  sees  my  heart,  and 
you  should  all  have  learned  by  now  that  my  beauty 
has  never  been  a  source  of  pride  to  me.  Yet  I  will 
remain  here,  because  I  rely  upon  our  Holy  Mother 
and  —  upon  my  beauty. 

ABBESS.     What  do  you  mean? 

HEDWIG.     My  beauty  will  be  my  shield. 

ABBESS.     Child!     What  are  you  saying! 


154  THE  BEAUTIFUL  NUN 

HEDWIG.     They  will  not  dare  to  stain  my  beauty. 

ABBESS.     Folly ! 

HEDWIG.  The  Holy  Mother  sent  me  that  thought. 
I  know  that  the  inspiration  comes  from  the  Holy 
Virgin. 

AUDACIA.  That  comes  from  Satan.  Holy 
Mother,  forgive  her  her  words ! 

HEDWIG.  Beauty  wakes  piety.  You  have  looked 
upon  many  a  holy  picture  in  your  life ;  did  you  ever 
behold  an  ugly  one?  How  does  our  Christ  look? 
How  does  our  Holy  Mother  appear?  How  she 
moves  us  with  her  divine  beauty !  How  do  the  angels 
appear?  Beauty  is  inspiration,  beauty  is  prayer, 
beauty  is  religion. 

ABBESS.  Beauty  is  seduction,  beauty  is  tempta- 
tion, beauty  is  intoxicating  wine.  Why  do  you 
speak,  sister,  of  pictures  and  statues,  of  cold  marble 
and  colors  upon  dead  canvas?  You  will  be  a  living, 
beautiful  nun  among  lust-driven  soldiers  of  the 
enemy. 

HEDWIG.     They  will  not  touch  me. 

ABBESS.  They  will.  .  .  .  (Men's  voices  heard 
from  without.)  Ah,  they  are  already  here!  .  .  . 
Quickly,  quickly!  .  .  .  Sister  Hedwig!  Sister  Hed- 
wig!  (Dashes  out,  followed  by  SISTERS  ERNESTINA 
and  AUDACIA.) 

HEDWIG  (slowly  approaches  the  image  and  sinks 
to  her  knees). 

Two  SOLDIERS  (dash  in  with  bayonets  fixed;  seeing 
nobody,  they  halt  and  lower  their  weapons). 

FIRST  SOLDIER  (crosses  himself). 


THE  BEAUTIFUL  NUN  155 

SECOND  SOLDIER  (about  to  do  the  same,  but  drops 
his  hand).  Bah!  An  enemy  church! 

FIRST  SOLDIER.  Just  look!  A  nun!  On  her 
knees ! 

SECOND  SOLDIER.  She  is  calling  down  destruc- 
tion upon  us  there.  We'll  give  it  to  her!  Let's 
see  whether  she's  a  young  one. 

HEDWIG  (crosses  herself  and  hides  her  face  in  her 
hands  ) . 

FIRST  SOLDIER.  She  has  concealed  her  face. 
That  means  she's  a  young  one. 

SECOND  SOLDIER.  You  can  tell  that  from  her  fig- 
ure. No  old  worshipper  would  have  a  figure  like 
that.  Appetizing,  what? 

FIRST  SOLDIER.  But  if  she's  remained  behind  with- 
out fear,  then  she  must  be  an  ugly  hag. 

SECOND  SOLDIER  (approaching  HEDWIG).  You've 
prayed  long  enough.  Let's  have  a  look  at  you. 

HEDWIG  (removes  her  hands  from  her  face  and 
crosses  herself). 

SECOND  SOLDIER  (recoils  in  surprise). 

HEDWIG  (rises  slowly  to  her  feet  and  turns  her 
face  toward  the  soldiers;  she  stands  close  to  the  wall 
before  the  image,  and  her  countenance  wears  a  calm, 
pious,  forgiving  expression). 

FIRST  SOLDIER  (breathless  with  amazement). 
What  a  beauty!  As  if  she  had  stepped  down  from 
a  picture. 

SECOND  SOLDIER.  And  she  wasn't  afraid.  Re- 
markable. Was  she  forgotten  in  the  flight,  or  was 
she  purposely  left  behind? 


156  THE  BEAUTIFUL  NUN 

HEDWIG.     I  desired  to  remain  here. 

BOTH  SOLDIERS   (are  entranced  with  her  voice). 

SECOND  SOLDIER  (after  a  brief  pause).  You  de- 
sired to  remain  behind,  did  you? 

HEDWIG.     To  perform  my  religious  duties. 

SECOND  SOLDIER.     And  weren't  at  all  afraid? 

HEDWIG.     I  am  not  afraid. 

SECOND  SOLDIER.     Not  afraid,  hey? 

HEDWIG.     I  am  not  in  danger. 

SECOND.  What?  (Both  soldiers  look  around 
them.) 

HEDWIG.  You  misunderstood  me.  No  one  is  con- 
cealed hereabouts  to  protect  me.  My  protection  is 
in  you  yourselves. 

SECOND  SOLDIER.     You  don't  say ! 

HEDWIG.  You  will  allow  me  to  continue  my  wor- 
ship before  the  Holy  Virgin  and  to  say  my  prayers. 
You,  too,  are  Christians? 

SECOND  SOLDIER.  That  makes  no  difference.  I 
don't  know  yet  whether  you  remained  behind  because 
you  were  such  a  pious  Christian.  Why  did  you  re- 
main behind? 

HEDWIG.     To  guard  the  perpetual  lamp. 

SECOND  SOLDIER.  Couldn't  some  old  carcass  have 
been  left  for  that  purpose? 

HEDWIG.     They  were  all  afraid. 

SECOND  SOLDIER.  All  the  old  frights  were  afraid, 
and  you  felt  no  fear? 

HEDWIG.     No. 

SECOND  SOLDIER.  There  must  be  something  be- 
hind all  this.  This  is  a  trick. 


THE  BEAUTIFUL  NUN  157 

HEDWIG.     I  am  the  only  soul  in  all  the  nunnery. 

SECOND  SOLDIER.  Aren't  you  supposed  to  dis- 
cover something  here?  To  do  a  little  spying? 

HEDWIG  (shakes  her  head  in  denial,  sincerely  and 
piously). 

SECOND  SOLDIER  (seizes  her  arm,  near  the  shoul- 
der). Are  you  speaking  the  truth? 

HEDWIG  (looks  at  him  with  a  calm,  pious,  piercing 
glance) . 

SECOND  SOLDIER  (laughs  embarrassedly  and  re- 
leases her). 

FIRST  SOLDIER.  She  looks  like  a  living  Madonna. 
.  .  .  You  could  almost  believe  that  the  Holy  Virgin 
had  stepped  down  from  the  image.  .  .  .  Ha,  ha.  .  .  . 

HEDWIG  (shakes  her  head).  No.  I  am  only  a 
nun  —  a  servant  to  the  Holy  Virgin. 

SECOND  SOLDIER  (to  the  FIRST  SOLDIER).  A 
curse  on  you.  You  almost  scared  me,  you  jackass! 

HEDWIG.  But  it  was  the  will  of  the  Holy  Mother 
that  I  should  remain  here. 

SECOND  SOLDIER.  If  not  the  will  of  somebody 
else.  None  of  your  idle  talk,  now.  Such  a  beauti- 
ful maiden  should  not  have  been  left  behind.  We  are 
hungry  soldiers.  Hungry  for  everything,  do  you 
understand!  For  a  woman,  and  a  young  and  beau- 
tiful one  in  the  bargain  —  over-hungry.  You 
should  have  expected  that. 

FIRST   SOLDIER.     Ha,   ha.  .  .  .  And   so   hungry ! 

HEDWIG.  You  will  not  disturb  me  in  my  duties. 
Go  in  peace. 


158  THE  BEAUTIFUL  NUN 

SECOND  SOLDIEE.  Indeed!  (Raises  his  gwn, 
aims,  and  shoots  down  the  perpetual  lamp.) 

HEDWIG  {shudders,  crosses  herself  and  murmurs  a 
prayer). 

FIRST  SOLDIER.     Ahhhhh.  .  .  .  Ha,  ha ! 

SECOND  SOLDIER.  There  goes  your  duty !  What 
will  you  say  now? 

HEDWIG  (still  stands  with  eyes  closed,  her  face  ex- 
pressing anguish  and  grief). 

SECOND  SOLDIER  (to  the  FIRST  SOLDIER).  A 
beauty,  hey? 

FIRST  SOLDIER.     Devilish  beautiful. 

SECOND  SOLDIER.     She  appeals  to  you,  hey? 

FIRST  SOLDIER.  Appeals  !  I  should  say  so,  to  the 
deuce  with  you ! 

SECOND  SOLDIER.     Then  what  can  hold  us  back? 

HEDWIG  (opens  her  eyes  wide  and  stares  at  them). 

FIRST  SOLDIER.  When  she  stands  looking  at  us 
like  that? 

SECOND  SOLDIER.  You're  a  coward, —  a  timorous 
rabbit ! 

FIRST  SOLDIER.     God  knows  I'm  not. 

SECOND  SOLDIER.     And  you're  afraid  of  her. 

FIRST  SOLDIER.     And  you're  no  braver. 

SECOND  SOLDIER.     Ha,  ha  ! 

FIRST  SOLDIER.  Women  with  faces  like  that  may 
be  attacked  only  in  the  dark. 

SECOND  SOLDIER.  Ha,  ha !  You're  an  ass ! 
(Harshly,  to  HEDWIG.)  What  are  you  standing 
there  for,  as  if  you  were  glued  to  the  wall?  You've 


THE  BEAUTIFUL  NUN  159 

no  more  duties  to  perform  here ;  there's  no  perpetual 
lamp  to  tend  now.  You  may  go ! 

HEDWIG.  I  will  get  another  lamp,  light  it,  and 
pray  for  your  sins. 

SECOND  SOLDIER.  Wait  a  while ;  I  will  add  a  few 
so  that  you  can  pray  for  the  new  ones,  too.  Well, 
why  don't  you  go  for  the  lamp?  Why  don't  you 
stir  from  your  place?  —  If  I  take  the  notion  into  my 
head  to  attack  you,  I'll  have  no  fear,  even  if  you 
stand  there  looking  at  me  through  those  big  eyes  of 
yours.  Do  you  understand?  —  You  needn't  look  at 
me  like  that!  Understand?  The  mistake  is  all 
yours,  and  you  have  nobody  else  to  blame. —  Well, 
why  don't  you  say  something?  What  are  you  stand- 
ing there  for,  staring  like  that  —  as  if  you  were 
glued  to  the  wall  ?  —  Hey !  Isn't  there  something  be- 
hind you  there  on  the  wall?  Aren't  you  concealing 
something?  A  button?  A  signal  to  press?  Away 
from  that  wall ! 

HEDWIG  (raises  both  her  hands).  I  swear  to  you 
by  the  Holy  Mother  of  God  .  .  . 

SECOND  SOLDIER  (breathing  hard  and  eyemg  her 
like  a  wild  beast,  awaiting  the  propitious  moment  to 
attack  her;  he  maneuvers  so  as  to  get  behind  her). 

HEDWIG  (sees  his  plan  and  strives  to  keep  him 
continually  before  her  eyes). 

FIRST  SOLDIER  (as  Hedwig  turns  her  back  to  him, 
smiles  bashfully  and  then  throws  himself  upon  her 
from  behind,  with  both  hands  across  her  face,  crying 
out  wildly). 


160  THE  BEAUTIFUL  NUN 

SECOND  SOLDIER  (with  a  beastly  roar  raises  HED- 
WIG  from  the  ground,  seizing  her  by  the  legs). 


CURTAIN 


POLAND  — 1919 


"  A  Scene  Out  of  Terrible  Days 


POLAND  — 1919 
SCENE 

A  spacious,  dark  cellar.  From  somewhere  m  the 
background  there  steals  in  a  sunbeam,  announcing 
that  the  clear  sun  of  daylight  reigns  outside,  and 
revealing  the  silhouettes  of  various  persons  that 
people  the  cellar.  Most  of  the  forms  lie  huddled 
together  upon  the  earth;  it  is  difficult  to  recognize 
them  as  human  shapes.  A  few  are  seated;  three 
men  stand  about  the  shaft  of  sunlight;  one  on  each 
side,  close  to  the  wall;  the  third  before  it,  his  hands 
crossed  on  his  breast  and  his  face  toward  the  light. 
On  the  ground,  in  the  triangle  formed  by  the  three 
standing  men,  a  group  of  little  boys  and  girls, 
reading  from  books. 

Silence.  The  atmosphere  quivers  with  intense  strain. 
All  are  listening  intently  to  every  sound  that  comes 
from  outside.  For  an  appreciable  while  the  silence 
is  unbroken.  Then  commences  a  conversation  be- 
tween those  who  are  seated  and  those  who  are  lying 
upon  the  ground.  There  is  a  whispering  of  dry, 
hungering,  weary  voices,  with  pauses  between  the 
queries  and  the  replies. 

VOICES. 

—  It  is  still  quiet  outside. 
165 


166  POLAND  — 1919 

—  How  long  has  it  been  quiet  ? 

—  She  speaks   of  time  J     Do  we  even  know  how 
long  we  have  been  here? 

—  It's  surely  three  or  four  hours  that  it's  been  so 
quiet. 

—  What  can  it  mean  ? 

—  Have  they  ceased  fighting,  or  — ? 

—  It    seems    as    if    they've    started    to    parley. 
There's  not  a  sound  from  any  quarter. 

THE  MAN  AT  THE  RIGHT  OF  THE  SUNBEAM.  How 
does  our  night-prayer  run  ?  "  To  my  right, 
Archangel  Michael;  to  my  left,  Archangel  Gabriel; 
before  me,  Archangel  Uriel ;  behind  me,  Archangel 
Rafael.  .  .  ."  And  what  have  we  now?  —  to  our 
left,  the  Poles ;  to  our  right,  the  Ukrainians ;  before 
us,  the  Russians ;  behind,  the  Rumanians.  .  .  . 

THE  MAN  AT  THE  LEFT  (ironically).  And  where 
is  God? 

ONE  WHO  is  SEATED.  If  we  had  thought  of  God 
before,  then  perhaps  we  should  be  better  off  now. 

THE  MAN  AT  THE  LEFT.  How  much  better  off, 
dear  Rabbi?  When  has  the  goodness  and  the  piety 
of  the  Jews  ever  availed  them? 

VOICES. 

—  The  Jews  have  always  been  scapegoats. 

—  Outside  there,  they'll  all  make  peace  and  then 
fall  upon  us  all  at  once. 

—  One  against  the  other,  and  all  against  us. 

—  We  aid  in  all  wars,  and  then  we're  massacred 
even  by  those  in  whose  ranks  we  have  fought. 

—  Who  knows  what  will  yet  be  our  fate? 


POLAND  —  1919  167 

— i Woe!  Woe!  (There  rise  the  sounds  of  a 
soft,  guarded,  exhausted,  dry  weeping,  for  they  have 
wept  out  all  their  tears.) 

A  WOMAN,  SEATED.  Oh,  Lord  of  the  universe. 
Let  them  do  anything,  anything.  .  .  .  Let  them 
break  my  bones,  let  them  twist  my  arms,  let  them  kill 
me;  but  not  that,  not  that.  .  .  . 

A  MAN  (beside  her).  It  was  fifteen  years  ago  I 
heard  you  say  that  for  the  first  time. 

THE  WOMAN.  And  how  many  times  have  I  re- 
peated it  since! 

ANOTHER  WOMAN.  Many  a  Jewish  daughter 
prayed  that  before  her ;  and  many  a  one  will  pray  it 
after  her,  perhaps.  (Groans.) 

A  MAN  WHO  is  STANDING  (he  is  at  the  right,  near 
the  wall,  and  is  invisible  because  of  the  mtense  dark- 
ness; his  voice  is  stifled,  hoarse,  and  echoes  with 
despair.)  Why?  Why? 

THE  VOICE  OF  A  MAIDEN  (weakly,  as  if  from  un- 
derground). Wasn't  that  a  chill  breeze  that  just 
blew  through? 

Silence 

A  LITTLE  BOY  (near  the  sunbeam).  I've  finished 
my  book.  Now  I'll  get  very  hungry. 

A  LITTLE  GIRL  (near  him).  Let's  change  books. 
I'll  give  you  mine. 

THE  BOY.     What  are  you  reading? 

THE  GIRL.     A  Polish  book. 

THE  BOY.  I  don't  know  Polish.  I'll  get  terribly 
hungry. 


168  POLAND  — 1919 

THE  GIEL.     Then  I'll  teach  it  to  you. 

THE  BOY.  Oh,  yes  !  Good-d-d!  Then  I  won't  be 
so  awfully  hungry.  {They  both  stretch  out  upon  the 
ground,  before  the  shaft  of  light.) 

THE  MAN  AT  THE  RIGHT.  Just  look  at  the 
"  People  of  the  Book  " —  And  some  Polish  rioter  will 
come  along  and  smash  their  heads  against  a  rock. 

THE  VOICE  OF  THE  MAIDEN.     I'm  so  cold. 

Silence 

THE  MAN  FACING  THE  SUNBEAM.  But  outside 
it's  a  glorious  summer's  day.  The  sun  shines  and 
laughs  and  warms  and  — 

ONE  WHO  is  LYING  DOWN.     Shows  where  to  shoot. 

THE  MAN  FACING  THE  SUNLIGHT.  Yet  we  are 
fortunate  to  have  at  least  one  ray  of  sunlight  with 
us. 

THE  VOICE  OF  THE  MAIDEN.  What  would  I  do  if 
it  were  light  here?  I  am  all  naked.  Will  no  one 
cover  me  with  something? 

Silence 

VOICES. 

—  The  silence,  it  seems,  is  even  worse  than  the 
firing.     While  the  shooting  was  going  on  we  could 
at  least  expect  a  bomb  to  strike  the  place  and  put 
an  end  to  everything.     Now  we  are  utterly  at  a  loss. 

—  Such  silence  is  terror. 

—  It  seems  that  they  are  planning  some  horrible 
thing  around  this  house. 

—  God  forbid ! 


POLAND  —  1919  169 

A  LITTLE  BOY.  I'd  like  to  crawl  out  and  take  a 
look  around. 

His  MOTHER.     Lie  where  you  are ! 

THE  BOY.  They  couldn't  see  me.  I'd  creep  like 
a  worm. 

His  MOTHER.  He'd  creep,  he  says !  He  can 
hardly  move  a  hand. 

THE  BOY.     I'm  small,  and  they  couldn't  see  me. 

His  MOTHER  {sternly).     Lie  where  you  are! 

THE  BOY  (petulantly).     I'm  hungry! 

THE  VOICE  OF  A  WOMAN  (very  weak).  A  crumb 
of  bread.  ...  A  crumb  of  bread.  .  .  . 

THE  VOICE  OF  THE  MAIDEN.  I  can  forget  my 
hunger,  but  not  my  nakedness.  If  I  only  had  some- 
thing to  wrap  about  me. 

ONE  ILL  WITH  FEVER  (with  an  outcry).  I'm 
burning!  I'm  on  fire! — (His  mouth  is  stopped. — 
Some  women  begin  to  sob  softly.) 

THE  UNSEEN  QUESTIONER  (as  if  groaning). 
Why?  Why? 

ONE  WHO  is  SEATED.  It's  enough  to  lift  off  your 
head. 

ANOTHER.  Mine  has  already  flown  off.  Like  the 
cover  of  a  kettle. —  Whizz !  —  Up  flew  my  skull-bone ; 
up,  up,  and  after  it  my  very  brains.  I  can  see  it 
high  up  there.  And  if  I  should  want  to  reach  it,  I 
would  need  a  very  high  ladder.  That's  what  makes 
me  so  sad.  I  haven't  any  such  ladder. 

A  CHILD  (begins  to  cry  in  a  very  weak  -voice).  I 
want  my  fireman's  ladder. 

THE  MOTHER.     Hush-sh!  .  . 


170  POLAND  — 1919 

A  WOMAN.  The  poor  thing  is  starving  and  asks 
for  toys. 

THE  MOTHER  (herself  begvwiing  to  weep). 
Hush-sh!  .  .  . 

Silence 

THE  MAN  FACING  THE  SUNBEAM.  How  the  sun's 
ray  calls  and  beckons  to  us !  It  makes  us  forget 
everything.  It  seems  as  if  I  could  mount  it  and 
journey  upward  and  upward.  .  .  .  And  verses  of 
happiness  fill  my  mind.  Why  do  I  see  only  green 
fields  outside?  And  a  merry,  glorious  world?  And 
a  happy  tranquility. 

VOICES. 

—  A  "  happy  tranquility  "  indeed ! 

—  We  ought  really  to  find  out  what's  going  on. 
THE  LITTLE  BOY.     I'll  crawl  out. 

VOICES. 

—  We  should  all  crawl  out.     Why  remain  in  hid- 
ing?    Why   torture   ourselves?     Let   them   wipe   us 
out,  and  end  it  all. 

—  As  long  as  we  draw  breath,  we  prefer  to  live. 

—  Rather  a  slow  exhaustion  in  hopes  of  remain- 
ing alive,  than  the  certainty  of  death. 

THE  LITTLE  BOY.  I'd  crawl  upon  my  belly.  I 
wouldn't  even  raise  my  head.  I'd  peek  just  like  this. 

THE  RABBI.  We'll  wait  through  just  this  day. 
And  if  it  still  remains  quiet  outside,  one  of  us  will 
have  to  crawl  out  and  discover  how  matters  stand. 

A  MAN  (his  voice  is  scarcely  audible).  I'll  not 
survive  this  day.  I  am  done  for. 


POLAND  — 1919  171 

Silence 

THE  VOICE  OF  A  WOMAN.     A  crumb  of  bread. 
...  A  crumb  of  bread.  .  .  . 
VOICES. 

—  Soon  we'll  all  be  speaking  like  that. 

—  We,  too,  will  forget  our  names  for  hunger. 

—  We'll  never  leave  this  place  alive. 

—  What  will  not  be  eaten  up  by  the  lice,  will  be 
devoured  by  the  mice. 

—  It's  enough  to  lift  your  head  off. 

THE  MADMAN.  We'll  stand  upon  one  another's 
shoulders  and  reach  the  head. 

A  WOMAN  (sits  bending  over  something  m  her 
lap,  and  groans  with  stifling  despair).  Gone!  .  .  . 
Gone !  .  .  .  He's  dead !  .  .  .  My  child  is  dead !  .  .  . 
Tseitele,  Avrahmele,  Layzer'l  is  dead.  .  .  .  Your 
brother  is  dead. 

Two  CHILDREN  (seated  beside  her,  burst  into  tears, 
weeping  with  weak  voices). 

THE  WOMAN.  He  is  dead.  Now  he  is  well;  now 
he  is  happy.  .  .  . 

VOICES. 

—  Ah !  Lord  of  the  universe ! 

—  Where  can  we  bury  him  ? 

—  He'll  not  be  the  only  corpse  very  long ;  we'll 
all  soon  j  oin  him. 

—  We'll  have  to  crawl  out  of  here.     How  can  we 
stay  now? 

—  We'll  have  to  dig  a  deep  grave  here. 

—  For  all  of  us. 


172  POLAND— 1919 

A  LITTLE  BOY  (wailing).  I'm  afraid!  I  want 
to  go  out!  (A  hand  is  pressed  against  his  mouth.) 

THE  QUESTIONER  (with  an  outburst  of  tears). 
Why?  Why? 

ONE  WHO  is  SEATED.  Because  we  meddle  in  every- 
thing. Because  we  have  a  hand  in  everything.  For 
our  revolutions. 

THE  MAN  AT  THE  LEFT  OF  THE  SUNBEAM.  Be- 
cause of  your  money-grubbing.  Because  of  your 
exploitation.  Because  of  your  capitalism. 

THE  RABBI.     Because  we  have  forgotten  God. 

ONE  WHO  is  SEATED.  Because  of  our  aloofness. 
Because  of  our  attitude  as  the  chosen  people. 

THE  MAN  AT  THE  RIGHT  OF  THE  SUNBEAM.  Be- 
cause of  your  fawning ;  because  of  your  assimilation. 
Because  of  your  obtrusiveness. 

A  WOMAN.  Now  they  start  to  argue.  Found  the 
right  time  for  it.  They'll  get  to  shrieking  yet. 

VOICES. 

—  Better  let  us  dig  the  little  grave. 

—  With  what  can  we  dig  it  ? 

—  I  believe  I'm  lying  upon  a  spade. 

—  Who  has  the  strength  to  dig? 

THE  WOMAN.  I  myself.  I  myself  will  dig  the 
grave,  and  dig  it  for  two.  How  long  can  I  last? 
I  hope  I  last  long  enough  to  dig  the  grave. 

HER  Two  CHILDREN  (burst  into  tears). 

THE  WOMAN.  I'll  dig  it  for  four.  Don't  cry. 
I'll  dig  it  for  four.  (Arises  and  drags  herself  m  the 
direction  of  the  voice  that  has  mentioned  the  spade.) 


POLAND  — 1919  173 

THE  VOICE.  You  will  have  to  remove  the  spade 
yourself  from  under  me.  I  haven't  the  strength  to 
stir. 

THE  WOMAN  (pulls  forth  the  spade,  returns  to 
her  place  and  begins  to  dig. —  The  sobbing  of  women 
is  heard). 

THE  VOICE  OF  THE  MAIDEN.  If  she  would  only 
scatter  the  thrown-up  earth  over  me.  It  would  cover 
my  nakedness. 

THE  UNSEEN  QUESTIONER  (through  clenched 
te&th  and  in  an  angry  voice).  Why?  Why? 
(Silence.  Only  the  digging  is  heard;  here  and  there 
a  weak  groan;  here  and  there  a  sob.) 

A  LITTLE  BOY.  I  can't  read  any  more.  My  eyes 
hurt. 

ANOTHER.  My  eyes  hurt,  too.  But  when  it  gets 
real  dark,  then  we  won't  be  able  to  read.  And  then 
we'll  get  terribly  hungry. 

A  LITTLE  GIRL.  When  it  grows  dark  we'll  go  to 
sleep. 

FIRST  BOY.  You  must  lie  down  on  your  stomach, 
and  press  it  hard.  Then  you  won't  feel  hungry. 

THE  SECOND.  When  I  lie  on  my  stomach  I  lick 
up  the  earth,  and  I  get  such  an  unpleasant  feel- 
ing. .  .  . 

THE  VOICE  or  A  WOMAN.  A  crumb  of  bread. 
...  A  crumb  of  bread.  .  .  . 

ONE  ILL  WITH  FEVER.  I'm  burning !  .  .  .  I'm  on 
fire;  ...  I  ...  (a  hand  is  clapped  over  his  mouth) 
on  fire! 


174  POLAND  — 1919 

THE  VOICE  OF  THE  MAIDEN.  And  I'm  so  cold. 
I'm  freezing.  .  .  .  And  how  shall  I  get  out  of  this 
place?  I'm  totally  naked. 

VOICES. 

—  She  actually  hopes  to  get  out  of  here ! 

—  There's  no  getting  out  of  this  place. 

—  Death  is  lurking  about.   .   .   .  Madness  is  hover- 
ing  around.  .  .  .  They    are   crawling   over   us   like 
vermin.   ...  I  would  swear  that  there's  a  dead  body 
next  to  me.  .  .  . 

—  Woe!     Woe!     (Weeping.) 

THE  WOMAN  (who  is  digging).  When  I  get 
through  I'll  give  you  the  spade. 

THE  QUESTIONER  (with  a  sudden  outcry).     Why? 

VOICES  (they  come  from  various  directions,  and 
ring  with  terror).  Hush-sh! 

ONE  NOT  FAR  FROM  THE  QUESTIONER.  We  have 
forgotten  how  to  shriek.  That  is  it.  When  the 
Romans  started  to  rend  the  skin  from  the  face  of 
Rabbi  Ishmael  the  High  Priest, —  one  of  the  ten 
martyrs  slain  by  the  authorities, —  he  let  out  such 
piercing  shrieks  that  there  came  a  voice  from  heaven, 
saying :  "  If  you  shriek  once  more,  I'll  wreck  the 
entire  world."  That's  how  we  ought  to  be  able  to 
shriek  to-day,  and  let  the  whole  world  crumble  to 
dust! 

THE  POET  (facing  the  sunbeam).  No!  Outside 
shines  the  glorious  sun !  Vast  and  round  and  bril- 
liant ! 

THE  MAN  AT  THE  RIGHT.  And  its  rays  tell  us 
of  a  land  whither  the  Jews  shall  return. —  it  tells 


POLAND  — 1919  175 

of  full  freedom,  of  a  home  of  their  own,  of  sunny 
independence,  of  a  life  without  persecution,  without 
scorn,  without  pogroms,  of  a  life  — 

THE  MAN  AT  THE  LEFT.  Without  master  or 
slave,  without  exploiter  and  exploited.  The  sun- 
beam speaks  to  us  of  a  new  day  and  a  new  world, 
with  a  new  justice,  new  relations  between  man  and 
man,  between  people  and  people. 

THE  POET.  Then  let  us  saddle  the  sunbeam  and 
fare  forth  upon  its  back  into  the  sunny  world.  For 
this  is  the  ray  of  hope.  This  is  the  — 

(A  bomb  strikes  the  spot,  burying  the  refugees 
beneath  the  ruins.  But  above  the  debris,  in  the 
bright  light  of  day,  are  visible  the  POET  and  the  QUES- 
TIONER, gasping  with  their  last  breath.) 

THE  POET  (in  exaltation,  dying).  The  vast, 
beautiful,  glorious  sun ! 

THE  QUESTIONER  (with  a  terrible,  heaven-rending 
outcry).  Why?  Why? 


CURTAIN 


THE  STRANGER 
A  Legend-Drama 


THE  LEGEND  IN  THE  MIDRASH 

Rabbi  Yudan,  son  of  Rabbi  Aibu,  said:  Mendhem  is 
his  (tlie  Messiah's)  name.  This  was  the  statement 
made  by  Rabbi  Yudan,  son  of  Rabbi  Aibu:  Once  upon 
a  time  a  man  was  plowing,  when  one  of  his  oxen  began 
to  cry  aloud.  An  Arab  happened  to  pass  by  and 
said  to  him,  "  Who  are  you?  "  And  he  replied,  "  I 
am  a  Jew."  And  the  Arab  said,  "  Unyoke  your 
oxen"  The  Jew  asked,  "  Why?  "  The  other  re- 
plied, "  Because  the  Temple  has  been  destroyed." 
Whereupon  the  Jew  asked,  "  How  do  you  know 
that?  "  And  the  other  answered,  "  I  know  it  from 
the  crying  of  your  ox."  As  the  Arab  spoke  to  him 
thus  the  ox  again  cried  out.  And  the  Arab  said  to 
the  Jew,  "  Put  your  oxen  back  into  harness,  for  there 
has  been  born  the  redeemer  of  the  Jews."  Where- 
upon the  first  asked,  "  What  is  his  name?  "  And  the 
Arab  answered,  "  Menahem  is  his  name."  "  And 
what  is  the  name  of  his  father?  "  He  answered, 
"  Hezekiah."  And  the  first  asked,  "  Where  does  he 
dwell?  "  The  other  answered,  "  In  the  Arab  district 
of  Bethlehem,  in  Judah." 

And  the  man  sold  his  oxen  and  his  plow  and  bought 
linens  for  children,  and  wandered  from  one  town  to 
another,  from  one  land  to  another,  until  he  came 
thither.  All  the  village  women  came  to  buy  of  his 

wares,  but  the  woman  who  was  the  mother  of  the  child 

179 


180  THE  STRANGER 

did  not  buy  of  him.  So  he  said  to  her,  "  Why  do  you 
not  buy  linens  for  your  child?  "  And  she  answered, 
ff  Because  my  child's  fate  is  an  evil  one."  And  he 
asked,  "  Why?  "  Whereupon  she  replied,  "  Because 
at  his  birth  the  Temple  was  destroyed."  He  an- 
swered, however,  "  We  must  trust  in  the  Lord  of  the 
world;  through  him  was  the  Temple  destroyed,  and 
through  him  will  it  be  rebuilt.  Take  some  of  these 
children's  linens,"  he  counseled,  "  and  after  some 
days  I  shall  come  for  the  money."  So  she  took  some 
and  went  away. 

Days  passed  and  the  man  said,  "  I'll  go  and  learn 
how  the  child  is  getting  along."  So  he  went  to  her 
and  asked,  "  How  is  the  child  getting  on?  "  And  she 
replied,  "  Didn't  I  tell  you  that  his  fate  was  an  evil 
one  and  pursued  him?  For  since  that  time  winds 
and  storms  came  and  carried  him  off"  Whereupon 
he  said  to  her,  "  Didn't  I  tell  you  that  through  him 
the  Temple  was  destroyed  and  through  him  it  would 
be  rebuilt?  " 


PERSONS 

THE  STRANGER 

THE  YOUNG  WIFE 

HER  SERVANT 

GURYON 

TARFON     ^Three  Old  Men 

GAMALIEL  j 

BERACHIAH 

FIRST  GUARD 

SECOND  GUARD 

THIRD  GUARD 

FIRST  WOMAN 

SECOND  WOMAN 

THIRD  WOMAN 

FOURTH  WOMAN 

AN  OLD  MAN 

Men,  women  and  children  of  various  classes  of  the 
population. 

The  action  takes  place  in  the  city  of  Birath  Arba 
in  the  time  of  the  destruction  of  the  second  Temple. 


' 


THE  STRANGER 

SCENE 

The  marketplace  of  Birath  Arba  in  the  background, 
and  to  the  right  and  left,  shops,  consisting  of 
wooden  booths  placed  a  short  distance  from  each 
other,  laden  with  -various  articles:  clothes,  dishes, 
woolens.  In  the  middle  of  the  square  rise  three 
cedar  trees.  Behind  the  booths  is  visible  a  row  of 
wooden  dwellings  with  trees  growing  before  them. 

From  the  right  of  the  marketplace  comes  the  noise  of 
a  large  crowd.  The  shopkeepers,  all  of  them  el- 
derly people,  stand  in  a  group  near  the  shops  at 
the  right,  and  look  with  frightened  countenances 
in  the  direction  of  the  commotion.  From  the 
houses  at  the  rear  and  at  the  left,  men,  women  and 
children  begin  to  pour  forth,  agitated,  terrified. 
The  noise  comes  nearer;  cries  are  heard  distinctly: 
"  Woe  unto  us!  Woe  unto  us!  Evil  tidings  have 
come!  Woe  unto  us!  Woe  unto  us!  " 

Enter  GURYON,  TARFON  and  GAMALIEL,  three  snow- 
white  old  men,  followed  by  a  large  crowd  that 
presses  upon  the  place  from  between  the  booths. 
The  men  of  the  group  are  mostly  middle-aged  or 
older;  the  few  youths  among  them  are  cripples. 

GURYON  (in  a  tearful  voice).     Children  of  Israel, 
183 


184  THE  STRANGER 

give  ear  to  me,  and  prepare  to  hear.     Zion  is  in  the 
throes  of  death  and  Jerusalem  is  about  to  fall. 

AN     OUTBURST     OF     LAMENTATION.       Woe  !       Woe  ! 

Woe  unto  us ! 

GURYON.  A  man  has  just  passed  by,  a  refugee 
from  Jerusalem,  and  frightful  is  the  tale  he  bears. 
Your  hearts  will  melt  like  wax,  and  your  eyes  will 
brim  over  with  tears. 

AN  OUTBURST  (stronger  than  before).  Woe! 
Woe  unto  us ! 

GURYON.  Step  by  step  the  besieged  army  was 
compelled  to  retreat  before  the  Romans.  They 
fought  like  lions  and  infuriated  bulls.  Hungry,  ex- 
hausted, faint  from  lack  of  sleep,  they  yet  withstood 
the  enemy,  and  every  step  forward  was  dearly  paid 
for  by  Roman  blood.  But,  alas  !  The  Romans  con- 
quered, and  now  there  remains  to  our  defenders  only 
a  single  stronghold  —  the  Temple.  There  they  have 
locked  themselves  in  and  the  Romans  are  laying  siege 
to  them.  Woe,  woe  unto  us!  The  Romans  are  be- 
sieging the  Temple !  The  Romans  are  already  before 
the  walls  of  the  Temple!  (Bursts  into  tears.  The 
lamentation  of  the  crowd  waxes  louder.) 

AN  OUTBURST.     Woe  unto  us !     Woe  unto  us ! 

GAMALIEL  (tearfully).  And  hunger  is  growing  in 
the  city.  People  die  in  the  streets ;  they  fall  like 
flies.  Folks  go  around  like  shadows,  peering  about 
for  something  to  eat.  Miriam,  the  daughter  of 
Boethius,  the  wife  of  the  High  Priest  Joshua  — 

TARFON.  One  of  the  wealthiest  women  in  Jerusa- 
lem. She  used  to  walk  from  her  house  to  the  Temple 


THE  STRANGER  185 

upon  carpets,  costly  carpets  from  Persia.  I  myself 
have  held  them  in  my  hands ;  carpets  that  cost  a  for- 
tune. 

GAMALIEL.  And  she  was  wont  to  use  two  hundred 
measures  of  wine  each  day  —  two  hundred  measures 
of  wine  —  so  you  may  well  imagine  her  luxurious 
table !  This  selfsame  Miriam  now  walks  through  the 
streets  of  Jerusalem  and  takes  into  her  mouth  the 
most  nauseating  objects  she  finds,  stilling  her  hunger 
with  whatever  she  can  swallow.  Miriam,  daughter  of 
Nicodemus  — 

TARFON.  Was  even  wealthier  than  Miriam, 
daughter  of  Boethius.  She  used  to  give  five  hundred 
golden  pieces  every  day  for  incense  in  the  Temple. 

GAMALIEL.  She  wanders  through  the  streets  of 
Jerusalem,  picking  up  the  oats  that  fall  from  horses' 
feed.  (His  bitter  weeping  increases.)  Oh!  The 
curse  of  the  world  has  come  upon  us !  Mothers  kill 
their  little  children,  in  order  to  eat  flesh.  (The 
weeping  of  the  crowd  rises  to  a  new  outburst.) 

TARFON  (breaking  suddenly  into  lamentation). 
Woe  to  our  heads !  The  Temple  has  surely  been  de- 
stroyed already,  and  Jerusalem  has  fallen ! 

VOICES.  Woe  to  our  heads  !  Woe !  Woe !  The 
Temple  has  surely  been  destroyed ! 

GAMALIEL  (bitterly).  Woe  unto  us!  Woe  unto 
us! 

A  WOMAN  (begins  to  pull  her  hair,  with  a  bitter 
outcry).  Woe!  Woe!  Woe! 

GURYON  (struggling  with  his  weakness).  Silence, 
you  fools!  (To  TARFON).  How  could  you  speak 


186  THE  STRANGER 

so  ?  You  are  old  and  grey,  yet  have  not  learned  what 
miracles  the  Lord  can  work.  Is  it  not  a  miracle  that 
our  hungry  warriors  are  victorious  over  the  Romans 
day  after  day,  and  repulse  their  well-fed  legions? 
Is  it  not  a  miracle  that  many  of  the  Romans,  moved 
by  the  courage  and  the  heroism  of  the  Jews,  desert 
their  banner  and  their  gods  and  come  to  our  God  and 
to  our  people?  (There  is  a  stir.) 

VOICES.     Do  they?     Is  that  really  so? 

GUEYON.     Day  after  day  they  do  so.      (A  stir.) 

VOICES.     Lord,  how  almighty  Thou  art ! 

GURYON.  Will  He,  our  omnipotent  Lord,  permit 
His  House  to  fall?  How  could  you  have  spoken  so, 
Tarfon? 

TARPON.  Did  He  not,  then,  allow  His  first  Tem- 
ple to  be  destroyed?  I  am  afraid!  I  am  afraid! 

VOICES.     Woe  unto  us  !     Woe  unto  us ! 

GURYON.  May  your  tongue  be  paralyzed,  Tar- 
fon !  You  blaspheme  the  Lord,  and  your  words  serve 
only  to  encourage  Satan.  And  I  tell  you  that  the 
Temple  has  not  been  destroyed.  Do  you  imagine 
that  God's  House  would  be  destroyed  and  we  and 
the  whole  world  would  not  have  felt  it  immediately? 
Would  not  the  sun  have  grown  dark,  and  would  not 
the  heavens  be  veiled  in  sorrow,  shedding  bitter  tears? 
Would  not  our  hearts  weep  within  our  bosoms,  and 
would  we  not  know  whence  came  the  tears?  And  not 
only  we,  but  even  the  creatures  of  the  forest  and  the 
beasts  of  the  field  should  be  aware  of  it.  Sin  not  with 
your  speech,  and  shed  your  tears  not  in  lamentation, 
but  in  entreaty  and  prayer.  Let  us  clothe  ourselves 


THE  STRANGER  187 

in  sackcloth,  cover  our  heads  with  ashes  and  torment 
our  bodies  with  fasting.  Let  us  beg  the  Lord  to  be 
merciful,  to  remove  His  heavy  hand  from  His  people, 
and  deliver  His  holy  kingdom.  Come,  let  us  all  pass 
the  day  in  weeping  and  in  prayer.  (The  crowd  stirs. 
The  lamentation  breaks  forth  anew.) 

VOICES.     Fetch  sackcloth  !     Bring  ashes  ! 

A  MAN'S  VOICE  (within,  to  the  left  of  the  booths). 
Swaddling  clothes  for  sale !  Clothes  for  new-born 
children !  Swaddling  clothes  for  sale !  For  new- 
born children  !  (All  eyes  turn  to  the  left.) 

GURYON.  Who  can  that  be,  crying  his  wares  so 
calmly,  while  our  people  are  plunged  in  sorrow? 

THE  STRANGER  (enters  between  the  two  forward 
shops  at  the  left,  carrying  a  peddler's  pack  upon  his 
shoulders).  That's  what  I  call  my  luck.  I  see  gath- 
ered on  this  marketplace  the  whole  city  of  Birath 
Arba,  so  that  it  will  be  all  the  easier  for  me  to  find 
whom  I  seek.  Tell  me,  dwells  there  not  among  you 
one  Hezekiah  by  name,  to  whom  was  born  a  son  on 
the  day  the  Temple  was  destroyed,  and  who  named  his 
son  Menahem?  (Commotion.) 

A  TERRIFIED  MURMURING.  On  the  day  the  Tem- 
ple was  destroyed? 

GURYON,  TARFGN  and  GAMALIEL  (with  consterna- 
tion). On  the  day  the  Temple  was  destroyed? 

GURYON.     Has  the  Temple  been  destroyed? 

THE  STRANGER  (astonished).  You  do  not  know 
it?  Or  is  it  not —  (firmly).  Yes,  our  Temple  has 
been  destroyed ;  the  crown  of  our  head  has  fallen. 

VOICES  OF  LAMENTATION.     Our  Temple  has  been 


188  THE  STRANGER 

destroyed ;    the    crown    of    our    head    has    fallen ! 

TARFON  (with  a  trembling  voice).  Guryon,  you 
see  — 

GURYON  (to  THE  STRANGER,  in  a  voice  choked 
with  tears).  Do  you  come  from  Jerusalem,  or  from 
its  vicinity? 

THE  STRANGER.  I  come  neither  from  Jerusalem 
nor  from  its  vicinity.  Birath  Arba  lies  midway  be- 
tween Jerusalem  and  my  home. 

GURYON  (raises  his  eyes,  -filled  with  surprise,  to 
THE  STRANGER).  And  still  you  already  know  what 
we  have  not  yet  learned.  Did  you  meet  upon  the 
road  people  from  Jerusalem  or  from  its  vicinity? 

THE  STRANGER.  I  met  nobody  upon  my  way. 
The  roads  now  are  abandoned,  deserted,  without  a 
traveler.  Only,  at  frequent  intervals,  hordes  of  Ro- 
man soldiers,  in  high  spirits,  march  by.  And  they 
are  dangerous  because  they  kill  or  take  prisoner 
every  Jew  they  encounter.  Through  forests  and 
night  I  stole  hither,  and  the  journey  which  ordinarily 
would  have  taken  me  two  days,  consumed  ten. 

GURYON.  You  come  not  from  Jerusalem,  and  have 
met  nobody  on  the  way,  yet  you  say  — 

THE  STRANGER.  And  yet  I  tell  you  that  the  Tem- 
ple has  been  destroyed,  and  that  the  same  day  there 
was  born  Menahem,  who  will  console  us  in  our  mis- 
fortune and  deliver  us  from  our  enemies.  And  that 
Menahem  is  among  you  in  Birath  Arba.  (Commo- 
tion. ) 

MURMURING  AMONG  THE  PEOPLE.  A  prophet?  — 
Perhaps  a  false  prophet !  —  Yes,  a  false  prophet ! 


THE  STRANGER  189 

GUEYON  (sternly).  Who  are  you  that  you  know- 
things  which  you  have  neither  seen  nor  heard?  Has 
the  Lord  sent  you  a  token?  Has  He  revealed  it  to 
you  in  a  dream? 

THE  STRANGER.  Your  mouth  has  spoken  it. 
God  has  revealed  it  to  me  through  a  token. 

MURMURING.     A  prophet !  —  A  false  prophet ! 

GURYON.  Speak,  and  let  us  know  whether  to  be- 
lieve you.  Who  are  you,  tell  us,  and  how  did  the 
Lord  reveal  Himself  to  you? 

THE  STRANGER.  I  will  tell  you  straightway,  but 
first  let  me  sit  down  and  moisten  my  parched  throat. 
(Lowers  his  pack,  sits  down  upon  the  earth,  takes  a 
drink  of  water  from  his  skin-bottle,  and  a  bite  of 
carob.)  I  was  a  tiller  of  the  soil  in  a  village  far 
in  Galilee,  and  dearer  than  all  else  to  me  was  my 
little  piece  of  earth.  When  war  with  the  Romans 
broke  out,  I  was  the  only  able-bodied  man  left  in  my 
village  with  my  oxen,  and  did  not  go  to  help  our  peo- 
ple and  our  country. 

A  CRIPPLE  (in  the  front  line  of  the  crowd).  He 
confesses  that  without  blushing  for  shame ! 

THE  STRANGER.  Hear  me  further.  It  was  no 
easy  matter  for  me  to  remain  behind.  I  waged  a 
bitter  battle  in  my  bosom.  On  one  side  my  people 
called  me,  on  the  other,  my  beloved  earth,  until  the 
earth  drew  me  to  itself.  To  my  people  I  am  but  a 
lone  individual,  I  said  to  myself,  but  to  my  earth  I 
am  all.  So  I  remained  with  my  earth.  Around  and 
around  our  land  was  devastated.  City  after  city  and 
district  after  district  was  captured  by  the  Romans, 


190  THE  STRANGER 

until  at  last  they  beleaguered  Jerusalem  and  more 
than  ever  our  people  needed  its  sturdy  sons.  And  all 
this  I  knew,  yet  I  did  not  stir  from  my  place.  I  was 
ashamed  to  look  to  right  or  to  left,  yet  continued  to 
walk  behind  my  oxen.  I  was  as  if  grown  into  my 
earth,  unable  to  uproot  myself  from  it. 

GURYON  (hard).  Be  brief.  We  wish  to  know  the 
Lord's  token. 

THE  STRANGER  (arising).  I'll  tell  it  directly. 
Ten  days  ago  I  was  in  the  field  with  my  oxen.  Sud- 
denly they  became  so  restless,  and  began  to  cry  with 
such  strange  sounds,  as  if  something  had  frightened 
them.  I  looked  in  every  direction,  under  my  oxen 
and  above,  and  beheld  nothing  that  could  have  given 
them  fright.  And  since  they  continued  to  cry,  I 
raised  my  staff  and  beat  them,  saying  to  them,  "  Why 
do  you  cry  so,  you  foolish  oxen !  "  And  of  a  sudden 
there  appears  before  me  an  old,  old  man,  with  snow- 
white  hair  and  snow-white  beard,  and  dressed  like  an 
Arabian.  And  he  says  to  me,  "  Beat  not  your  oxen. 
Rather  unyoke  them  and  cast  aside  your  work,  for  in 
this  moment  the  Temple  has  been  destroyed."  I 
cried  out  in  terror,  and  with  trembling  heart  and 
quivering  hands  I  did  as  he  bade  me.  But  the  oxen 
began  to  cry  anew.  This  time  the  sounds  they  made 
seemed  as  if  filled  with  joy.  And  the  old  man  spoke 
again  to  me.  "  Yoke  your  oxen,"  he  said,  "  and  re- 
turn to  your  labors,  for  in  this  moment  there  has  been 
born  the  Messiah  who  will  deliver  the  Jews  from  their 
enemies  and  rebuild  the  Temple."  (Becoming  ex- 
cited.) And  something  stirred  within  me,  and  I 


THE  STRANGER  191 

asked  the  old  man  what  was  the  name  of  the  new-born 
child.  And  he  replied,  "  Menahem  is  his  name." 
And  his  father's  name?  "  Hezekiah,"  he  answered. 
Where  does  he  live?  And  he  responded,  "  In  Birath 
Arba  you  will  find  Menahem's  mother."  (Commo- 
tion.) 

MURMURING  or  VOICES.  Did  you  hear?  Did  you 
hear  ?  Hezekiah  —  Menahem  — 

THE  STRANGER.  And  as  soon  as  he  had  spoken 
this,  he  vanished  before  my  very  eyes,  and  I  knew 
that  God  had  sent  him  to  me.  (His  excitement 
grows.)  At  first  I  was  overwhelmed  with  terror,  and 
trembling  in  every  limb  I  looked  about  me,  and  it 
seemed  as  if  someone  were  beside  me,  crowding 
against  me.  I  wanted  to  return  to  my  work,  but 
could  not.  And  suddenly  my  eyes  became  two 
springs,  and  tears  began  to  flow  in  two  streams. 
And  I  threw  myself  down  upon  the  earth  and  wept 
bitterly.  And  when  the  tears  came  no  longer,  a 
thought  filled  my  head  and  my  heart.  Why  had  God 
chosen  me  to  receive  such  a  revelation?  And  it 
seemed  to  me  as  if  someone  at  once  answered  from 
beside  me,  "  You  earth-worm,  bound  to  the  soil,  the 
Lord  wishes  to  punish  you  for  your  indifference  to 
your  people's  sorrows,  for  your  heart  of  stone  which 
the  misfortunes  of  your  Nation  have  failed  to  move  1 " 
I  looked  around,  but  saw  no  one  near.  It  was  as  if 
God  had  spoken  to  me,  and  again  the  great  terror 
descended  upon  me,  and  I  feared  to  look  to  right,  to 
left.  And  there  I  sat  with  eyes  closed,  and  my  great 
terror  within  me,  and  with  head  and  heart  sought  to 


192  THE  STRANGER 

discover  what  punishment  God  had  here  chosen  for 
me.  And  suddenly  a  dark  feeling  filled  me,  sending 
a  shudder  through  my  whole  body.  Everything  be- 
gan to  turn  before  my  eyes,  and  I  seemed  to  hear  a 
voice  speaking  to  me :  "  You  earth-worm,  bound  to 
the  soil,  you  did  not  care  to  help  your  people  in  its 
war  for  freedom,  and  did  not  care  to  stand  up  for  its 
holy  Temple.  Go  and  seek  out  its  redeemer  and 
the  builder  of  its  future  Temple,  and  be  unto  him  an 
eternal  vassal."  And  filled  with  terror,  I  asked  my- 
self, if  God  wishes  this  of  me,  why  has  His  messenger 
not  told  it  to  me?  And  I  sank  into  meditation,  seek- 
ing a  reply,  and  waiting  for  a  token  from  God.  And 
again  it  seemed  as  if  someone  spoke  beside  me. 
"  God  gave  you  the  choice  before  and  gives  it  to  you 
now.  Before,  you  chose  the  wrong;  now  choose  the 
right."  And  with  wildly  beating  heart  I  arose  from 
the  earth,  drove  my  oxen  into  the  city,  sold  them 
together  with  the  yoke,  and  for  the  money  I  received 
I  bought  linen  for  swaddling  clothes,  so  that  I  might 
cry  my  wares  in  Birath  Arba,  and  ask  whatever 
woman  came  to  me  what  was  her  husband's  name  and 
when  her  child  was  born.  But  now  you  are  all  gath- 
ered here  — 

GURYON.  And  is  that  your  whole  story?  What 
proof  will  you  show  us,  that  we  may  believe  you? 

THE  STRANGER.  Is  it  not  proof  enough  that  I 
come  to  you  from  afar  and  tell  you  that  on  the  self- 
same day  on  which  the  Temple  was  destroyed  there 
was  born  our  redeemer,  and  that  he  is  here  among 
you? 


THE  STRANGER  193 

GUEYON.  This  happened  ten  days  ago,  you  say? 
And  he  is  named  Menahem?  And  his  father  Heze- 
kiah?  (To  the  populace.)  Does  any  of  you  know 
a  Hezekiah,  to  whom  ten  days  ago  was  born  a  son 
whom  he  named  Menahem? 

MURMURING.  Do  you  know  such  a  one?  Do  you 
know  Hezekiah? 

VOICE  (from  the  back  of  the  crowd).  My  name 
is  Hezekiah,  but  no  child  has  been  born  to  me  in  the 
last  twelve  years. 

ANOTHER  VOICE  (from  the  side).  There  is  a 
Hezekiah,  son  of  Halphi,  but  he  has  been  a  widower 
for  these  four  years. 

A  WOMAN'S  VOICE.  I  have  not  heard  of  a  child 
being  born  among  us  for  a  month.  And  I  am  a  mid- 
wife. 

GURYON  (to  THE  STRANGER).  Do  you  hear? 
Your  proof  is  no  proof  at  all. 

MURMURING.  His  proof  is  no  proof  at  all !  A 
false  proof !  A  false  prophet ! 

THE  STRANGER.  That  you  do  not  know  is  surely 
no  proof  against  me,  and  you  shall  see  that  I  will 
find  here  the  mother  of  Menahem. 

GURYON.  Now  I  will  tell  you  who  you  are.  You 
are  a  fool  and  a  false  prophet  — 

VOICES.     A  false  prophet !     A  false  prophet ! 

GURYON.  You  are  one  of  those  who  are  overrun- 
ning our  land  in  these  days. 

TARFON.  You  are  a  downright  impostor  who  is 
looking  only  to  make  good  profits  from  his  children's 
linens.  But  we  have  no  need  here  of  your  swaddling 


194  THE  STRANGER 

clothes.  There  are  places  to  buy  them,  without  you. 
I  have  plenty  of  them  in  my  own  shop. 

GAMALIEL.  You  are  a  liar  who  little  cares  that 
with  his  falsehoods  he  can  make  his  hearers'  hearts 
stop  beating  and  take  away  all  desire  to  eat  or  drink. 

GURYON.  You  are  a  sinner  and  a  blasphemer  who 
utters  evil  words  to  weaken  the  faith  of  believers  in 
God. 

TARPON.  He  wants  to  cry  his  wares  all  the  louder, 
so  he  invents  a  likely  tale.  You  deserve  to  be  beaten, 
you  impostor ! 

VOICES.  Beat  him!  Stone  him!  Stone  him! 
(The  circle  about  THE  STRANGER  becomes  narrower, 
and  hands  are  raised  against  him.) 

THE  STRANGER.  Hold!  (The  din  subsides.) 
Give  me  but  three  days'  time,  and  if  within  those 
three  days  I  do  not  discover  the  child  Menahem,  or 
you  learn  that  the  Temple  has  not  been  destroyed, 
then  you  may  stone  me.  But  should  you  learn  within 
those  three  days  that  the  Temple  has  been  destroyed 
as  I  have  told  you,  and  if  I  do  not  within  that  time 
discover  the  child  Menahem,  then  allow  me  to  remain 
in  your  city  and  wait,  for  I  am  sure  that  I  shall  find 
him. 

GURYON.  Let  it  be  as  you  say.  And  more.  We 
will  at  once  send  out  messengers  upon  the  various 
roads  to  Jerusalem  to  learn  how  matters  stand  there, 
and  you  shall  remain  here  until  they  return.  And  if 
they  bring  back  reports  that  show  you  to  have  lied, 
\ve  will  punish  you  as  a  false  prophet  deserves  to  be 
punished.  But  if  the  reports  show  you  to  have  told 


THE  STRANGER  195 

the  truth,  and  the  Temple  is  really  destroyed,  you 
may  remain  here  as  long  as  you  please,  and  we  shall 
all  wait  to  see  what  time  will  bring  forth  for  you. 
Our  meeting-house  stands  open  to  you.  There  you 
will  sleep  at  night  and  find  your  rest  by  day. 

THE  STRANGER.  My  profuse  thanks.  But  the 
sky  over  my  head  has  always  been  roof  enough  for 
me.  I  shall  remain  here  upon  the  marketplace  and 
cry  my  wares  until  Menahem's  mother  comes  to  me. 

TARFON.  Do  not  believe  him.  He  will  sell  out  his 
wares  and  then  he  will  leave  to  spread  his  lies  broad- 
cast and  utter  blasphemy. 

THE  STRANGER.     I  will  sell  nothing  to  any  woman. 

GAMALIEL.  We  shall  have  to  watch  him,  lest  he 
run  away. 

GURYON.  Leave  everything  to  me.  All  will  be 
right.  (Turns  to  several  of  the  bystanders.)  You, 
Berachiah,  and  you,  and  you,  and  you,  off  at  once 
upon  the  roads  that  lead  to  Jerusalem.  Should  you 
meet  anyone  coming  from  Jerusalem,  very  well  indeed. 
Then  you  can  learn  from  him  at  once  how  matters 
stand  there.  But  be  sure  to  question  him  thor- 
oughly, and  not  believe  his  very  first  words.  For 
who  knows  who  the  person  may  be.  Better  wait  to 
meet  a  second  and  a  third,  and  if  they  all  tell  the 
same  story,  you  may  then  believe.  In  that  case, 
bring  us  the  news  just  as  it  is;  good  or  bad,  bring 
it  to  us  as  fast  as  your  feet  can  carry  you.  But 
should  you  encounter  nobody  —  for  the  roads  are  de- 
serted and  desolate  —  then  press  on  to  Jerusalem, 
steal  in  behind  the  Roman  lines,  if  that  be  necessary, 


196  THE  STRANGER 

make  your  way  into  the  city  and  learn  everything. 
And  bring  us  the  news  as  fast  as  possible. 

BERACHIAH.  Do  you  not  think  that  your  last 
suggestion  is  a  very  dangerous  one? 

GURYON.  That  I  know  quite  well,  my  friend. 
But  I  did  not  know  that  in  Birath  Arba  there  were 
grown-up  men  who  would  decline  a  mission  because  it 
was  dangerous. 

VOICES.     Well  spoken,  Guryon ! 

BERACHIAH.  Very  well.  We  leave  at  once. 
(BERACHIAH  and  the  three  other  men  leave,  followed 
by  several  women  and  children,  who  accompany  them 
out,  to  the  right.  The  women  dry  their  eyes.) 

GURYON  (to  three  other  men  in  the  crowd).  And 
you  three  remain  here  on  guard  over  the  stranger. 
See  to  it  that  he  does  not  squirm  out  of  his  well- 
merited  punishment. 

ONE  or  THE  THREE.     We  will  guard  him  well. 

GURYON.  And  let  all  the  rest  of  us  go  into  the 
meeting-house  to  pass  the  time  in  prayer  and  in  fast- 
ing, garbed  in  sackcloth  and  with  ashes  upon  our 
heads.  (Leaves  toward  the  left,  followed  by  TAR- 
FON  and  GAMALIEL  and  then  the  crowd.  The  shop- 
keepers hurriedly  pack  their  wares  and  close  their 
shops,  hastening  after  the  crowd.  There  remain 
upon  the  stage  only  THE  STRANGER,  THE  THREE 
GUARDS  and  some  women  from  nearby  houses.  A 
few  of  the  latter  have  their  children  with  them. 
They  stand  in  groups  near  the  shops  and  stare  at 
THE  STRANGER.) 


THE  STRANGER  197 

THE  STRANGER  (sits  down,  opens  Ids  pack  and 
looks  at  the  linens,  speaking  as  if  to  himself). 
Menahem,  son  of  Hezekiah  —  Menahem,  son  of  Heze- 
kiah  — 

FIRST  GUARD.  Repeat  it  well,  repeat  it  well,  so 
that  you  shall  not  forget  your  lie. 

SECOND  GUARD.  That  will  do  him  no  good.  He 
will  not  carry  his  lie  out  of  this  city,  anyway. 

THIRD  GUARD.  He  will  be  buried  under  a  heap  of 
stones,  together  with  his  lie. 

THE  STRANGER  (arises  and  calls).  Swaddling 
clothes  for  sale !  Linens  for  new-born  children ! 
Swaddling  clothes !  Linens  for  new-born  children ! 

FIRST  GUARD.  Cry  louder !  Your  Hezekiah's 
wife  is  deaf  in  one  of  her  feet  and  lame  in  an  ear. 

SECOND  GUARD.  Look  out !  Look  out !  She'll 
fall  right  down  on  your  head. 

THE  STRANGER.  Swaddling  clothes  for  sale ! 
Linens  for  new-born  children ! 

THIRD  GUARD.  He  shouts  and  shouts,  and  doesn't 
become  hoarse.  Maybe  we  have  a  madman  on  our 
hands ! 

A  WOMAN  (approaches  the  stranger's  pack). 
We  may  as  well  look  at  his  wares  meanwhile.  (Sev- 
eral other  women  draw  near  and  begin  to  examine 
the  linens.) 

FIRST  WOMAN.     It  is  good  linen. 

SECOND  WOMAN.     Excellent. 

THIRD  WTOMAN.  Tarfon's  cloth  is  not  half  so 
good. 


198  THE  STRANGER 

FOURTH  WOMAN.     And  Gamla's  is  much  worse. 

FIRST  WOMAN.  I  have  a  good  mind  to  buy  some. 
How  much  is  it  by  the  ell  ? 

THE  STRANGER.  Do  not  be  foolish,  woman.  If 
your  husband's  name  is  not  Hezekiah,  and  your  son's 
Menahem,  then  you  can  get  no  goods  from  me. 

FIRST  WOMAN.  So  you  are  really  afraid  of  the 
guards?  That  is  all  right.  They  will  close  their 
eyes  and  pretend  not  to  see. 

SECOND  WOMAN.  And  if  my  child  is  a  girl,  and  is 
named  Tamar,  is  she  not  entitled  to  some  of  your 
good  linen? 

THIRD  WOMAN.  And  if  my  son's  name  is  Nahmen, 
he  surely  is  entitled  to  some?  How  far  is  it  from 
Nahmen  to  Menahem? 

FIRST  WOMAN.  How  much  does  an  ell  cost? 
You  may  tell  us,  at  least?  (The  Stranger  closes  his 
pack.) 

FOURTH  WOMAN.  See,  he  closes  his  bundle  and 
does  not  even  look  at  us. 

FIRST  GUARD.  Alas,  what  a  defeat !  Our  most 
beautiful  women  have  besieged  a  man  and  could  not 
capture  him. 

FIRST  WOMAN.     If  only  you  weren't  here. 

FIRST  GUARD.  What  will  you  give  me  if  I  shut 
my  eyes? 

SECOND  GUARD.     And  I  want  a  share. 

FIRST  GUARD.      Her  bed  is  too  small  for  three. 

THIRD  GUARD.  You  shouldn't  talk  like  that  when 
our  people  are  gathered  in  prayer  and  tears. 

THIRD  WOMAN.     That  is  man's   way:   amid   the 


THE  STRANGER  199 

greatest  misfortunes  he  never  forgets  his  lust.  Even 
at  the  point  of  slaughter,  the  cock  pursues  the  hen. 

THE  STRANGER.  Swaddling  clothes  for  sale ! 
Linens  for  new-born  children ! 

FOURTH  WOMAN.  Why  do  you  shout  your  wares 
like  that?  We  are  not  deaf.  Open  your  pack. 

THE  STRANGER.  I  do  not  sell  to  you.  You  al- 
ready know  that. 

(A  young  wife  enters.  Her  clothes  show  that  she 
has  made  a  long  journey  on  foot.  She  comes  in  at 
the  right  background,  from  between  two  shops,  and 
stands,  unobserved.) 

FIRST  WOMAN.  See,  he  really  believes  that  we  are 
dying  to  purchase  his  goods ! 

SECOND  WOMAN.  It  is  not  at  all  so  good  as  it 
seemed  to  be  upon  first  inspection.  It  is  not  strong. 

THIRD  WOMAN.  It  would  fall  to  pieces  at  the  first 
washing.  (The  women  notice  the  newcomer,  and 
look  at  her  in  surprise.) 

FIRST  WOMAN  (to  the  Second).  Who  is  that 
standing  there? 

SECOND  WOMAN.     She  is  unknown  to  me. 

THIRD  WOMAN.     I  have  never  seen  her,  either. 

FOURTH  WOMAN.     I  could  swear  she  is  a  stranger. 

FIRST  WOMAN.  From  her  clothes  it  looks  as  if  she 
had  just  arrived. 

(The  Stranger  notices  the  newcomer.  THE 
YOUNG  WIFE  becomes  aware  that  she  is  being  closely 
scrutinized  and  steps  back  several  paces  in  great  em- 
barrassment.) 


200  THE  STRANGER 

FIRST  GUARD.  Whom  are  you  seeking  here,  my 
beauty  ? 

THE  STRANGER.  Come  closer,  do.  Why  do  you 
stand  aloof?  You  may  also  inspect  my  wares. 

(THE  YOUNG  WIFE  approaches,  hesitantly,  blush- 
ing deeply  with  embarrassment.  The  other  women 
again  draw  near  to  the  STRANGER.) 

FIRST  WOMAN.  Inspect,  and  no  more.  For  he 
will  not  sell  you  his  goods. 

THE  YOUNG  WIFE  (in  scarcely  audible  tones). 
I  expected  it.  Nor  is  my  heart  upon  buying. 

THE  STRANGER.     What  was  it  you  expected? 

THE  YOUNG  WIFE.  That  you  would  refuse  to 
sell  me  your  wares.  My  child  of  misfortune  deserves 
it,  too. 

FIRST  WOMAN.     Your  child  of  misfortune? 

THE  YOUNG  WIFE  (with  tears).  Yes,  my  child  is 
a  child  of  misfortune.  It  is  — 

FIRST  GUARD.  What  ails  your  child?  Speak 
clearly. 

THE  YOUNG  WIFE  (weeping).  It  was  born  to  me 
on  the  day  our  Temple  was  destroyed!  (Intense 
commotion;  exclamations  of  great  astonishment.) 

THE  STRANGER.     Ha!     What  was  that  you  said? 

THE  YOUNG  WIFE.  I  knew  that  you  would  all  be 
surprised.  My  child  and  I  deserve  to  be  scorned. 

FIRST  GUARD  (in  great  agitation).  Where  do  you 
come  from?  Speak! 

THE  YOUNG  WIFE.     From  Jerusalem. 

THE  STRANGER.  When  was  your  child  born? 
Tell  us  once  more. 


THE  STRANGER  201 

THE  YOUNG  WIFE.  You  heard  me.  I  cannot 
bring  it  to  my  lips  again. 

SECOND  GUARD.  How  long  —  how  long  ago  did 
this  happen? 

THE  YOUNG  WIFE.  Surely  you  must  know.  Ten 
days  ago.  (A  stir,  and  renewed  exclamations  of 
amazement.) 

THE  STRANGER.     What  is  the  name  of  your  child? 

THE  YOUNG  WIFE.  My  child  of  misfortune  bears 
a  false  name.  His  father  wished  it  so.  His  name  is 
Menahem.  (The  commotion  grows.  The  bystand- 
ers recoil  in  fear  from  the  Stranger  and  the  Young 
Wife.) 

THE  STRANGER  (breathlessly).  Ah!  And  what 
is  your  husband's  name? 

THE  YOUNG  WIFE.  Why  do  you  shout  so? 
(Looks  at  him  closely  and  throws  herself  impetu- 
ously upon  him.)  Then  you  know  my  husband,  per- 
haps? Do  you  know  me?  Do  you  know,  perhaps, 
what  has  become  of  my  husband?  Have  you  some 
terrible  news  to  tell  me?  I  see  it  in  your  eyes. 
You  are  frightened,  you  are  confused.  (Hysteric- 
ally. )  Tell  me !  Have  the  Romans  slain  him  ? 
Have  they  sold  him  into  slavery?  Tell  me,  where! 
Tell  me,  to  whom!  (Tearing  her  hair  madly.)  My 
Hezekiah!  My  Hezekiah!  (General  consterna- 
tion. ) 

THE  STRANGER.  Oh !  (He  clutches  his  heart  and 
his  head  and  rubs  his  eyes  as  if  struggling  against  a 
feeling  of  faintness.  Several  of  the  women  seize  their 
children  and  run  off  in  hysterical  fright.) 


202  THE  STRANGER 

FIRST  GUARD  (to  the  SECOND  GUARD).  Run  at 
once  to  fetch  Guryon,  Tarfon  and  Gamaliel.  Tell 
them  what  you  have  heard,  and  bid  them  to  come  here 
directly.  (SECOND  GUARD  runs  off  to  the  left.) 

THE  STRANGER  ( regains  his  composure  and  speaks 
in  a  quiet  voice).  Calm  yourself.  I  know  neither 
you  nor  your  husband.  I  bring  no  news  of  him. 
Tell  me,  rather —  (Cries  out  exultantly.)  Tell 
me,  rather,  where  is  your  son?  Where  have  you  left 
your  Menahem? 

THE  YOUNG  WIFE  (scarcely  able  to  speak).  I 
left  him  in  a  house  on  the  outskirts  of  the  city. 
(Brokenly.)  Why  do  you  persist  in  questioning  me 
about  my  child  of  misfortune? 

THE  STRANGER.  Silence,  woman !  You  know  not 
what  you  speak.  Your  son  is  not  a  child  of  mis- 
fortune, but  a  child  of  happiness  and  consolation. 
He  is  a  Menahem,  a  "  consoler  "  of  our  people.  On 
the  day  of  his  birth  the  Temple  was  destroyed  and 
our  people  defeated,  but  he  will  rebuild  our  Temple 
and  will  lead  our  people  to  new  victories. 

THE  YOUNG  WIFE.  What  are  you  talking  about? 
Are  you  trying  to  console  me?  Or  are  you  mocking 
an  unhappy  woman? 

THE  STRANGER.  Come,  lead  me  to  your  son. 
God  has  appointed  me  His  vassal  and  He  sent  me 
hither  from  afar,  to  find  him  here.  Come !  You  will 
hear  everything.  Come,  lead  me  to  your  son !  Upon 
my  arms  I  will  carry  him  and  watch  over  him,  even 
as  the  most  faithful  nurse.  Come,  quickly  t 

FIRST  GUARD.     Halt!     You  must  not  leave  this 


THE  STRANGER  203 

spot !  I  see  it  all  now.  This  is  a  plot.  This  woman 
is  in  league  with  you  and  wants  to  save  you  from 
our  hands. 

THE  STRANGER.  You  blasphemer,  you  evil- 
tongued  wretch,  you  carrion-mouth,  how  dare  you 
now  speak  so?  How  can  you  hold  me  back  from  that 
to  which  God  has  appointed  me? 

FIRST  GUARD.  Perhaps  I  am  wrong.  But  you 
shall  not  leave.  We -were  placed  here  to  guard  you 
and  we  will  not  release  you.  You  yourself  promised 
to  remain  here  in  the  market-place.  Keep  your 
pledge. 

THE  STRANGER.  Yes,  I  promised  it:  until  she 
should  come  —  the  mother  of  Menahem. 

FIRST  GUARD.  You  must  wait  until  Guryon  re- 
turns. 

THE  STRANGER.  Jew,  you  are  sinning  now  against 
your  Messiah. 

FIRST  GUARD.     I  am  doing  my  duty. 

THE  STRANGER.  Then  I  must  wait,  and  that  is 
a  grievous  sin. 

THE  YOUNG  WIFE.  I  understand  nothing  of  what 
you  two  are  saying. 

THE  STRANGER.  You  will  understand  later.  God 
appointed  me  to  come  hither  and  seek  you  out,  be- 
cause your  son  was  born  to  be  our  Messiah. 

THE  YOUNG  WIFE.     The  child  of  misfortune? 

THE  STRANGER.  Name  him  not  so,  I  have  already 
told  you.  And  how  come  you,  pray,  to  call  him  thus? 
(The  women  draw  closer  and  surround  the  YOUNG 
WIFE  and  the  STRANGER.) 


204  THE  STRANGER 

THE  YOUNG  WIFE.  How  else  could  he  be  called, 
when  he  was  born  on  such  a  day?  Oh,  how  I  prayed 
not  to  have  him  on  that  day !  I  entreated  God  not  to 
open  my  womb,  that  my  child  should  not  have  to  go 
through  life  with  the  consciousness  that  on  the  day  of 
his  birth  his  people  was  visited  with  the  most  ter- 
rible and  grievous  of  disasters  —  that  he  should  not 
be  to  me  as  an  eternal  tombstone  over  the  grave  of  my 
nation  and  its  faith.  And  when  God  did  not  give  ear 
to  me,  and  the  pangs  of  my  labor  increased,  I  wished 
to  oppose  the  Lord  and  work  my  own  will.  I  bit  my 
lips  and  held  in  my  breath.  I  wanted  to  keep  my 
child  in  my  womb.  And  when  the  pains  grew 
stronger  and  I  gasped  for  air,  losing  the  strength  of 
my  will  —  and  when  I  saw  that  the  child  would  be 
born  despite  all,  I  prayed  to  God  that  it  be  born 
dead.  "  Lord,"  I  cried,  "  this  will  be  your  greatest 
mercy.  Lord,"  I  wept,  "  how  shall  I  be  able  to  re- 
joice in  my  child,  when  my  whole  people  is  blind  with 
tears  and  plunged  in  defeat?  "  And  I  restrained 
my  cries  of  anguish  and  prayed  to  God.  "  Lord,  my 
husband  has  gone  off  to  wage  war  for  your  Sacred 
House  and  for  the  freedom  of  your  chosen  people. 
He  was  not  held  back  by  his  deep  love  for  me  or  by 
his  joyous  expectation  of  the  child  under  my  breast. 
And  I,  too,  choked  back  my  tears  and  prepared  him 
for  war,  and  if  I  had  not  had  the  child  under  my 
breast,  I  would  not  have  let  him  depart  alone,  but 
would  have  marched  along  with  him  and  fought  side 
by  side  with  him  against  your  enemies  and  together 
with  your  noble  sons.  You  know  my  heart,  and 


THE  STRANGER  205 

know  that  I  would  have  done  so.  Now  show  me  your 
mercy,  and  let  me  not  yet  bear  my  child,  or  let  it  be 
born  dead."  But  God  deserted  His  chosen  people, 
and  abandoned  me,  too.  I  gave  birth  to  the  child, 
and,  as  you  see,  he  was  born  alive. 

THE  STRANGER.  That  was  the  third  hour  after 
mid-day  ? 

THE  YOUNG  WIFE.  You  know  that,  too?  Yes, 
it  was  the  third  hour  after  mid-day.  The  last  walls 
of  the  Temple  had  collapsed  in  the  flames  and  the  last 
heroes  were  slain  and  in  that  selfsame  moment  my 
son's  cries  filled  the  house.  How  happy  should  I  have 
been,  had  I  heard  his  first  cries  at  any  other  time. 
But  all  I  could  do  then  was  weep,  and  I  wept  long  and 
bitterly,  and  from  the  street  there  came  into  my  home 
the  wailing  of  our  people.  (Bursts  into  tears.) 

THE  STRANGER.  Weep  not.  You  spoil  your 
milk. 

THE  YOUNG  WIFE.  My  milk  —  my  milk  is  as  bit- 
ter as  gall.  And  I  grudge  him  every  drop.  As  soon 
as  he  was  born  I  became  angry  with  God.  I  raised 
my  hand  against  Heaven,  and  cried,  "  God,  you  de- 
sired him  to  live,  then  give  him  nourishment,  for  I 
will  not  suckle  him."  I  turned  away  and  did  not  even 
wish  to  see  him.  But  when  he  began  to  cry  louder 
and  louder,  I,  too,  burst  into  tears  and  took  him  to 
my  breast  —  with  my  eyes  closed,  so  as  not  to  see 
him.  (From  the  left  comes  the  mingling  of  many 
voices.) 

THE  STRANGER.  Here  they  come.  Oh,  I  shall 
soon  behold  your  son!  (GURYON,  TARFON,  GAMA- 


206  THE  STRANGER 

LIEL  and  the  SECOND  GUARD  enter,  followed  by  the 
populace,  all  m  sackcloth  and  ashes.) 

GURYON.  Where  is  the  woman?  Where  is  she? 
(The  women  separate.  GURYON  approaches  the 
YOUNG  WIFE.)  Are  you  the  woman  from  Jerusa- 
lem? 

THE  YOUNG  WIFE.     I  am  the  woman. 

GURYON.  And  you  say  that  the  Temple  has 
fallen? 

THE  YOUNG  WIFE  (her  eyes  wide  open  with  sur- 
prise). And  you  have  not  yet  heard  of  it? 

GURYON.  We  have  not  heard  of  it,  nor  do  we 
know  it  now. 

THE  YOUNG  WIFE  (with  tears).  It  happened  ten 
days  ago.  At  the  third  hour  after  mid-day  its  last 
walls  crumbled  in. 

VOICES.  Hear !  Hear !  Tremble  ye  heavens ! 
(Wailing.) 

GURYON.  Whither  go  you  now,  and  what  seek 
you  here  ? 

THE  YOUNG  WIFE.  I  seek  my  husband.  He  was 
in  the  army  against  the  Romans,  under  Eleazer,  and 
was  captured.  I  have  been  informed  that  he  is  now  in 
Syria.  Thither  I  am  journeying;  I  am  merely  pass- 
ing through  this  city. 

GURYON.  Are  you  telling  us  the  truth?  Will 
you  swear  to  your  words?  (There  is  a  disturbance 
at  the  right.) 

BERACHIAH,  and  ONE  OF  THE  MESSENGERS  (come 
running  in,  their  clothes  torn).  Woe  unto  us  !  Woe 
unto  us !  The  Temple  has  fallen !  Fallen !  Fallen ! 


THE  STRANGER  207 

(The  YOUNG  WIFE  bursts  into  tears;  the  other  women 
do  likewise.) 

GURYON.     When  did  this  happen? 

BERACHIAH.  Precisely  as  the  Stranger  related, 
ten  days  ago. 

GURYON.     How  did  you  learn  of  this? 

BERACHIAH.  As  soon  as  we  had  struck  the  road 
to  Hebron,  we  came  upon  a  horde  of  Jews  who  were 
making  their  way  thence  to  Gilead,  and  they  told  us 
the  woeful  tidings  with  tears  in  their  eyes  and  with 
a  wringing  of  hands. 

THE  STRANGER.  Now  lead  me  to  your  son! 
Come  all,  follow  me !  Shed  tears  for  what  has  been 
lost,  but  rejoice  in  what  is  to  come.  A  son  has  been 
born  unto  her,  and  he  is  called  Menahem,  and  he  will 
be  to  us  a  consoler  and  a  redeemer,  a  builder  and  a 
reconstructor  !  Follow  me !  Come,  behold  the  child ! 
Come,  fortunate  woman,  lead  us  to  your  child  — 
your  child  of  good  fortune,  your  child  of  redemption  ! 
(There  is  a  stir  in  the  background.  The  SERVANT 
and  the  OLD  MAN  elbow  their  way  to  the  YOUNG 
WIFE). 

THE  SERVANT  (falls  wailing  upon  her  knees  before 
the  YOUNG  WIFE).  Kill  me!  Woe! 

THE  YOUNG  WIFE.     What  has  happened? 

THE  SERVANT.  Kill  me !  Put  me  to  death ! 
Your  child  is  no  more ! 

THE  YOUNG  WIFE  (in  terror).     My  child  is  dead? 

THE  STRANGER.     Menahem  is  dead? 

MURMURING  AMONG  THE  PEOPLE  (with  accents  of 
despair).  Dead? 


208  THE  STRANGER 

THE  SERVANT  (struggling  for  breath  between  her 
sobs}.  No.  Not  dead! 

THE  STRANGER  (enlightened).     Oh! 

MURMURING  AMONG  THE  PEOPLE.     Not  dead ! 

THE  YOUNG  WIFE.     Then  what  has  befallen  him? 

THE  SERVANT.  Hear  me  out.  You  left  me  with 
your  child  outside,  before  the  house,  until  you  should 
return  with  the  swaddling  clothes ;  and  I  lay  the  child 
down  before  me  and  began  to  sew  his  little  shirt. 
Suddenly  it  became  dark,  just  like  before  a  storm  — 
I  had  not  noticed  how  the  darkness  came  upon  us  — 
and  a  great  wind  arose.  I  leaned  over  to  the  child, 
about  to  take  it  into  my  arms  and  carry  it  indoors : 
suddenly  I  was  blown  about  by  the  wind,  my  eyes  were 
filled  with  sand  —  and  I  felt  as  if  someone  tore  the 
child  from  my  grasp.  And  when  I  opened  my  eyes 
it  was  light  again,  but  I  did  not  see  the  child.  I 
looked  around,  began  to  seek,  but  could  not  find  him. 
I  raised  an  alarm,  the  people  came  out  of  their  houses, 
I  told  them  the  misfortune,  they  helped  me  seek,  and 
we  sought  far  and  wide,  but  could  not  find  him. 
They  are  here  with  me,  they  can  bear  witness  that  I 
tell  no  lie. 

THE  OLD  MAN  (at  her  side).  She  speaks  the  pure 
truth.  I  happened  to  be  standing  at  the  window,  and 
it  was  just  as  if  I  saw  the  wind  raise  the  child  aloft 
and  bear  it  away. 

THE  YOUNG  WIFE.     My  child ! 

THE  SERVANT.     Put  me  to  death  if  I  am  guilty! 

THE  YOUNG  WIFE.  Arise,  you  are  not  guilty. 
Such  is  my  child's  fate. 


THE  STRANGER  209 

VOICES.  Why  do  we  stand  here?  Let  us  run  to 
seek  the  child.  (THE  STEANGEE  appears  to 
awaken. ) 

GUEYON.  What  would  you  have?  (THE 
STEANGEE  relapses  into  revery.) 

THE  YOUNG  WIFE  {through  her  tears).  Did  I 
not  tell  you  that  he  was  a  child  of  misfortune? 

THE  STEANGEE  (uttering  his  words  with  delibera- 
tion, his  gaze  fixed  upon  the  distance).  Name  him 
not  so.  He  is  no  child  of  misfortune,  I  have  told  you. 
On  the  day  of  his  birth  the  Temple  was  destroyed, 
but  he  was  born  to  build  us  a  new  one.  I  go  to  seek 
him.  God  has  imposed  this  task  upon  me.  I  see  it 
clearly.  (Of  a  sudden  he  becomes  old,  and  his  hair 
and  beard  turn  white.) 

VOICES.     See  how  he  looks  J     See  how  he  looks ! 

GUEYON  (recoils  m  terror).  And  him  we  called 
liar  and  sinner? 

THE  STEANGEE.  Sinner,  yes.  I  have  committed 
the  most  evil  of  sins.  I  did  not  care  to  fight  for  the 
freedom  of  my  people.  Now  God's  terrible  punish- 
ment descends  upon  me.  I  shall  have  to  wander  over 
the  length  and  breadth  of  the  earth.  I  see  it.  And 
long,  long  shall  I  have  to  seek.  I  feel  it.  I  do  what 
I  must.  (Places  the  peddler's  pack  on  his  shoul- 
ders.) I  do  what  I  must.  (With  uplifted  arms  he 
leaves  in  the  direction  of  the  right.) 

THE  YOUNG  WIFE  (falls  prostrate).  My  child! 
(The  bystanders  sink  to  their  knees.) 

CURTAIN 


UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA  LIBRARY,  LOS  ANGELES 

REC'D  us>      COLLEGE  LIBRARY 

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Mar^y  6? 

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WAR  3  1 1967 

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